Walking Away
by Iron Angel 80
Summary: A normal life is all Sam wanted. It's why he walked away from the only life he's ever known. So why couldn't his old life leave him alone? Set pre-series.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Okay, so Sam was twenty-two when Jessica died, so that would have put him in his fourth year of college, and in the pilot, Dean said that he hadn't bothered Sam in nearly two years, so that means that Dean must have been around for the first two years that Sam was at Stanford. Later in the season we learned that Sam had been _'Lying to Jessica for a year and a half'_, so does anyone else think that Sam getting involved with Jessica is the reason that he stopped all contact with his brother? We all know that he and his father didn't get along but we also know that Dean would do anything for Sam, so this is my take on the time Sam was in school, pre-season one. I promise that is only gonna be light and fluffy for the start – and then it will get dark and horrible and angsty in proper Supernatural style as we all know how the series pilot went down. I really want to give Sam his slice of apple pie life before I snatch it away and stomp on it *grins*

To take a page out of my girl Cornev's book, songs to the soundtrack will be called out like this (- - Insert song and artist here - -)

Disclaimer: The only supernatural thing I own is a car that has a trunk that mysteriously pops open all on its own.

* * *

Prologue

Late October, 2005

Sam Winchester sat in front of his computer, tapping his pen against the monitor in time to a beat that was only playing in his head. In his other hand he was holding his cell phone, flipped open and the blue lights illuminated his features in a ghastly hue. He was staring at the numbers on the key pad and wishing he could just press and hold in the number seven key, the button that would automatically dial his brother's cell phone so that he could speak to him. Sam desperately wanted to talk to Dean. He hadn't spoken to him in over twelve months, but then again, that was only because Sam had told him he didn't want him to come around anymore. Said it with words and fists. Sam sighed and closed the phone with soft click, resting it on the desk next to his laptop – the laptop that Dean had bought for him, and Sam sighed again. The memory of the hurt in his brother's eyes as fresh in his mind now as it had been the night he last saw him. Sam rubbed his palms into his eyes to try to blot out the memories, but it didn't work.

It never worked.

* * *

Chapter 1

Early October, 2002

(- - Tom Sawyer, by Rush - -)

Sam was eighteen, it was the start of October and he had just finished his first month away at school. He has never been separated from his family before, but the fight he had had with his father about leaving left no doubt in his mind that he was doing what was best for him. His father had said that if he left he should stay gone, and that was what he was going to do.

He still talked to his brother frequently – strained at first but that got better quickly – but there had been no contact with John Winchester since Sam had slammed the motel door behind him, his duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, as he stormed away from his family to board a bus that would take him to a better future.

Sam was running a mental list through his head about all the work he had to do tonight, when he rounded the corner of his dormitory building and saw a familiar figure on the front steps. Sam smiled as he called out, "Dean!" Dean Winchester tore his gaze away from two brunettes who were walking down the sidewalk, to turn and smile at his little brother.

"Sammy!" He grinned, "I love this place! What a view!"

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "the scenery is nice to look at too," he replied, leaning out to catch a glimpse of the girls his brother had been shamelessly ogling.

"You know me so well." Dean smirked as he affectionately punched his brother in the shoulder. "How've ya been?"

"Good. I'm good," Sam paused, "What are you doing here?"

"What? I'm not allowed to check in on my little brother? Make sure he's not taking advantage of all the innocent girls in the area?" Dean raised and lowered his eyebrows a couple times in an insinuating way that was so classically _Dean_, that Sam just laughed and slapped him on the back.

"How's the car?" Sam asked.

"The Cougar is a bitch. I'm telling you Sammy, never buy a Mercury." Sam smirked at his brother. Sam had spent the last year listening to Dean grumble and complain about that car, but he wouldn't give up on it. He even called it 'The Cougar' as if it were its rightful name because it acted like a feisty old woman.

"You didn't buy that car," Sam rolled his eyes, "you won it in a poker game."

"Yeah, I played that guy good." Dean grinned to himself.

"If The Cougar was the payout, I'd say that guy played you." Sam laughed.

"Hey!" Dean shouted indignantly, "Play nice."

"So ya coming in?" Sam asked him.

"Depends," Dean answered. "Is this place co-ed or is it a sausage-fest?"

"Its co-ed," Sam answered grinning.

"That's my boy!" Dean exclaimed happily as he clapped his hands together. "Lead the way."

Sam led Dean into the building, up a couple flights of stairs and down a poorly lit hallway. Finally stopping at the last door on the floor, Sam pulled out his key and entered his own little piece of paradise. The room wasn't much. It was small, there were two single beds against opposite walls, a dresser and a desk next to the corresponding beds. It wasn't much, but to Sam, it was a more stable home than any he'd ever known. He had been brought up on the road, always in dirty motels, and never in one place for more than a couple months at a time. He had switched schools several times a year, and always had to take an equivalency test every year to make sure that he was keeping up. He always did well, and often wondered how well he could have done if given the proper environment. Dean on the other hand hadn't fared so well. Where Sam's talents led to books and numbers, Dean's had fallen towards weapon training and hand to hand combat. This was a bone of contention that Papa Winchester was quick to point out, while frowning at his youngest son – although he never complained when Sam's computer skills were able to get him into every police data base in the country.

_Go figure_.

Any time there was a case where John wasn't able to get the information he needed by charm, stealth, or brute tactics, he would just lead Sam into a public library, sit him down in front an empty and isolated computer, and watched him go to work.

"Nice digs." Dean said appreciatively, looking around the small room.

"Thanks." Sam said as he sank into the chair in front of his desk. Dean flopped onto Sam's former roommate's bed.

"So where's your roomie at?" Dean asked.

"Dropped out last week. He decided this wasn't the place for him."

"So you got the room all to yourself?"

"Yup." Sam was happy that Matthew had left. The guy asked too many questions and was way too social to suit Sam's more withdrawn attitude. A life of mucking through sewers looking for god knows what will do that to a guy.

"Nice! So what do you say we find a bar and a couple girls and go have some fun?" Dean had that look in his eye that said quite plainly that he was eager to see more of the feminine population of the college.

"Oh…" Sam said dejectedly, remembering all the work he had to do.

"What is it?" Dean's face fell slightly.

"Well… I really want to but I have all this homework to do."

"So skip it."

"Dude, I can't. This isn't like the work load in high school that I could just whip off. This stuff is intense."

"Can you do it later?" Dean asked hopefully.

"No, I have to go to the library so that I can use the computers to do some research and type up a couple papers I've been working on. And the library is only open until ten and after that I have a bunch of reading I'm supposed to do." Sam was starting to get a headache just thinking of the long night he already had in front of him but was about to say 'screw it' to the work because his brother had just driven God-knows how long to get there when Dean beat him to the punch.

"Its okay, Sammy," Dean said while standing up. "I'm supposed to meet up with Dad in Death Valley tomorrow night anyway. I'll just head out there early and wait for him."

"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam repeated, feeling guilty that Dean had come out of his way to visit him and he wasn't able to spend time with him, even though he really wanted to. "Do you want to crash here for the night anyway?"

"Naw, its okay, Sam," Dean said again as he clapped his brother on the back. "I get it that school's important to you, and I want you to do well." He started to walk towards the door, turning back when his hand grasped the knob. "Hey, you get a long weekend next month for Thanksgiving right? Why don't you, me and Dad meet up?"

"No!" Sam said so quickly that he flinched at the crestfallen look that marred his brother's handsome face. He was not going to spend one minute in John's presence, no matter how happy it would make his brother. "Dean," Sam softened, "you know that's not going to happen."

"Yeah, I know," he conceded. "But it was worth a shot." Dean offered Sam a false grin that would have fooled any one that didn't know him as well as he did, and said, "See you around Sammy."

"Bye Dean," Sam said softly as the door gently clicked shut behind his brother.

* * *

Thanksgiving, 2002

Sam was sitting in the Stanford library, typing away madly at the keyboard in front of him. He had a report due the following week, and he wanted to make the best of the long weekend in front of him. The library was nearly deserted, most students having gone home to their families. Sam was lost in his report when the soft whir of his cell phone startled him out of his thoughts. He smiled broadly when he looked at the face of the phone and the caller ID showed Dean's number. Sam flipped open the phone and greeted his brother, "Dean?"

"_Hey Sammy!_" Came his brother's voice from the chunk of plastic and circuits in his hand. "_Where you at?_"

"I'm at the library, what's going on?"

"_The library – that figures._" Dean huffed.

"Dude, what's going on? Where are you?" Sam asked quickly.

"_Step out front Einstein and find out_." And with that Dean's cell was snapped closed.

Sam hurriedly saved his work and logged out of the terminal. Grabbing his books and his bag, he left the giant library and hurried out the front doors. There, in front of the building was Dean, leaning against their Dad's black '67 Impala and smiling at his younger brother. Sam halted at the top of the steps, his face darkening as he scanned the front seat for John Winchester. Not seeing him, he cautiously made his way to his brother, who had stopped smiling.

"Where's Dad?" Sam asked, trying to keep the anger from his voice and failing.

"He's not here." Dean answered.

"Yeah right," Sam bit. "The Impala's here so Dad is too."

"Sammy, Dad's not here. I promise you." Dean was trying to calm his brother before he started shouting.

"What," Sam said angrily, "Dad just let you take the car to come visit me? I don't think so." Dropping his bag to the ground, Sam stepped up chest to chest to his brother and accused him, "I told you when you were here last that I didn't want to see Dad."

Dean put his hands up and pushed his brother away from him, not gently but not forcibly either. "He's not here, Sammy. I came to visit _you_. Dad's not here so stop acting like an idiot."

The wild look started to leave Sam's young face, "Where is he then?" He demanded.

"He's outside Boston, working a haunted house," Dean said quickly.

"If Dad's in Boston, what the hell are you doing here with his car?" Sam asked him warily.

"It's my car now," Dean said proudly as he reached out to affectionately pet the hood.

"Your car?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Yup, he gave it to me a couple weeks ago. Told me to take good care of it or he'd tan my ass, twenty-two or not."

"I don't believe it. Dad loves this car."

"The Cougar died," Dean explained, "Dad got fed up and bought a truck, and gave me the Impala. He said it was because he was getting old and needed a vehicle that was higher off the ground and that he could take in the woods." Dean was still running his hand over the freshly polished hood.

"So the Impala's yours?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Yup."

"Can I drive it?" Sam asked skeptically. John had made sure that his boys could drive the car, in case of an emergency, as soon as they were big enough to reach the pedals. Though Sam had driven the car before, it had never been just for the fun of it.

"Nope," Dean said grinning, "but you can ride in the front seat for once."

"Figures," Sam huffed.

"Come on, I'm starved. Let's go find a bite to eat and then we can hit the bars for a little fun."

"Well there's a little problem with that Dean."

"What?"

"Dean, I'm eighteen, I can't get into a bar. All the joints around here check ID's because of the college." Sam argued.

"Dude, who do you think you're talking to? I got you all hooked up." With that Dean reached into his shirt pocket and handed a laminated card to his kid brother.

Sam flipped it over to see a Maine driver's license with his name and photo, stating he was twenty-two. Sam examined it carefully. It was really good – it actually looked authentic. "This looks real," Sam said, surprised.

"It is real," Dean answered proudly. "Or at least as real as it needs to be. Dad and I found a new guy who can make us an ID for just about anything. You should see all the cool cards I've got now that I'm old enough to look like I work somewhere."

"Dean, I can't believe you got me a fake ID. This has got to be the coolest thing you've ever gotten me," Sam said excitedly.

"What can I say," Dean replied, spreading his arms out and tipping his head back to bask in the fading sun. "I'm an awesome big brother." Grinning at Sam he said, "Now how about we get out of here and try out that new ID."

They had gone for supper at a local bar that a lot of the students went to, Dean having left the car at Sam's dorm. Sam had even ordered a pitcher of beer for the two of them, after flashing his new ID at the waitress. They played a few rounds of pool. Dean even managed to con a couple of guys into playing them for money, which was foolish on their parts because Dean never missed unless it was on purpose. The two guys were a little upset after several games that Sam and Dean had won over a hundred and fifty bucks from them, and accused him of hustling. They were right of course – Dean couldn't play a game without swindling some poor bastard out of his money, but that didn't mean that he was going to give it back just because they called him on his game. When it looked as if it was going to get confrontational, Dean invited them outside to talk it over. Sam didn't want to fight, but once the fists started flying, he didn't have much choice. It was over pretty quickly anyway. The other two guys didn't stand much of a chance against two brothers that had grown up the way the Winchester brothers did.

Swinging a couple six-packs and laughing all the way back to the dorm, Dean was elated about the easy money they had made. "You made that money Dean, it's all yours." Sam had insisted when Dean tried to push half the winnings on him.

"No Dude, you were my partner, you get half."

"You were the one making all the good shots."

"You mean you weren't missing on purpose to egg those guys on?" Dean asked. "Dude, you're out of practice."

"Whatever," Sam rolled his eyes. "Keep your ill-gotten gains."

"No way Sammy, you earned your share by taking out that big dude in the too tight t-shirt."

"I didn't have much choice. The guy tried to punch me."

"Yeah, that right hook of yours was always a thing of beauty… Smarts like hell too." Dean said wistfully while stroking his jaw, remembering some long ago scrap the two of them had gotten into.

They stayed up for a couple of hours in Sam's room, drinking the beer, laughing and talking. It felt good to have Dean there and the two of them just being brothers and not hunters. Dean ended up passing out in Sam's former roommates bed, his drunken snores filling the small room, the familiar sound lulling Sam off into a deep sleep.

* * *

The following day after breakfast, Sam had told Dean that he had to go to the library to use the computers.

"Dude, can you be any more lame?" Dean complained.

"I need to do my work Dean."

"Tell me that the Librarian is hot and that's why you spend so much time there."

"Dude, she's old," he grimaced.

"Cougar?" Dean raised his eyebrows hopefully.

"Not even close."

"Then come with me." And Dean led the way out of the diner and to the car in the parking lot. Dean opened the trunk, shifted some objects around a little to open the hatch that would store the spare tire in a normal car but instead held a small supernatural arsenal. Pulling out a brown leather case, he handed it to Sam.

"What's this?" Sam asked as he weighed the object in his hands.

"Open it up and find out."

Sam opened the case and inside was a laptop. The casing was covered in creepy looking decals of skulls and tribal scroll-work.

"I Winchester-ized it." Dean said proudly.

"Is this for me?" Sam said, awed.

"Yup, I don't know jack about computers, so I went into every geek store I came across until I found one that had a hot chick at the counter. She helped me out and gave me a couple programs she said you'd need – free of charge," he smirked. It didn't take much imagination to know how Dean scored free programs. The guy was a scoundrel when it came to women.

"Dean, this is too much. I can't accept this." Sam said, trying to push the computer back into his brother's arms.

"Well you better," Dean replied, pushing it back at him. "I can't take it back and what would I do with it besides watch porn?"

"How did you afford it?"

"That is several weeks worth of hard swindling, little brother. I ran every bar and pool hall from here to Columbus to buy that. It's supposed to be top of the line. And the chick kept saying it was wireless, whatever that means. Aren't laptops supposed to be wireless?"

Most guys would be able to hug their brother for giving them a gift like this, but that wasn't the way he and Dean were raised. So Sam settled for the traditional, manly shoulder slug. "Thanks Dean, this is awesome. Really."

"Don't mention it Samantha," Dean used the old nickname to warn Sam about getting too soft. "Now I'll let you have a couple of hours to do your work, but I'll meet up with you later and we'll get dinner and then head out and look for some girls. I'm dying to see more of the female student body."

"I'll bet you are," Sam said snidely to his brother as Dean got into the Impala and drove off, leaving him in the diner parking lot with the most expensive gift he's ever received.

* * *

The next couple of days passed much the same way. Dean would leave Sam to his studies during the day, and the evenings they would go to different bars where Dean would hit on anything in a skirt, and he and Sam would run a couple games of pool or darts. The morning Dean left, Sam returned to his room after seeing him off. Dean had promised to come see him again during his Christmas break. Opening his new laptop, Sam found an envelope on top of the keys. Written on the back of the envelope in Dean's small neat handwriting, was _'Sammy, don't even try to give this back to me, you helped me earn it. Use it to get yourself a haircut or something because you're getting shaggy Dude.'_ Inside the envelope was a wad of cash totaling nearly three hundred bucks. Sam grinned to himself and stashed the money away in his wallet, knowing that giving it back would be futile – and a guy's gotta eat.

A/N: So that's the first chapter, remember that this is gonna start out a little slow but hopefully I won't lose you guys before I go to town on Sammy's psyche.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 2

December 20, 2002

Sam had just finished his last class before Christmas break. He now had nearly three weeks vacation in front of him, and he was waiting on the front steps of his dorm building with his laptop, his books and his duffel bag, scanning the road for any sign of Dean. He had called him the night before and told him to look for him at around ten, and to have a week's worth of clothes with him. Sam had protested until Dean had told him that he wasn't trying to get him and Dad together, that he had a surprise for him, and that living in California was making him whiney. Finally Sam heard the familiar rumbling of the Impala and Dean pulled to the curb in front of the building. Climbing down the stairs and dropping into the front seat, Sam asked him, "So what's the surprise?"

"If I told you, would it be a surprise?" Dean replied with a smart-assed grin. Sam dumped his duffel into the back seat and barely got his seatbelt on when Dean gunned the engine.

"So you're not going to tell me where we're going?"

"Nope." Dean replied, grinning.

"Fine. Be that way," Sam said and looked out the window.

"And what way would that be?"

"A bitch."

"I'm not the bitch. You're the bitch."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam huffed and continued to look out the window. It was nice to hit the road with Dean but Sam was never a Christmas fan. It only shouted out reminders to him that he and Dean never had what so many others did. Most of the time while they were growing up, Christmas had been spent in one seedy motel or another, John always promising to be back but rarely keeping his word. Dean would do what he could and try to keep him occupied, watching all the Christmas cartoons that were played over and over on TV, but Sam always knew that Christmas wasn't meant for boys without a mother and who had an absent father. Sam would be quite happy if Christmas was deleted from the holiday list.

They drove for a long time with the only sounds coming from the Impala's roaring engine and the ancient radio in the dash blasting out Tom Cochrane's 'Life is a Highway.' Finally Sam said, "Well I guess we're not hitting Vegas."

"Really? You would have wanted to go to Vegas?" Dean asked excitedly.

"Not really, I just figured that you would have wanted to go."

"Are you kidding? Gambling and showgirls? That's my kinda town!"

"Well since we've been heading in the opposite direction for the last couple hours, I'd say it's a safe bet that we're headed somewhere else."

"Well we are," Dean smiled. "It's no Vegas, but I think you'll like it. Although you'll have spring break soon, maybe I'll swing by Stanford and pick you up and you and me can run the black jack tables or something." Dean paused, "…You can still count cards, right Rainman?"

"Dude, I am not doing the Rainman bit," Sam growled.

Dean rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Vegas…"

"Dude, where are we going?" Sam asked, getting annoyed.

"Some place where we haven't been in a long time, and are long overdue for a visit."

"Okay. _Where?_" Sam stressed.

"Minnesota," Dean answered simply.

"Minnesota?" Sam repeated, completely confused before realization hit him and he said excitedly, "Pastor Jim's!"

"You got it Pontiac."

"I haven't seen Pastor Jim in years," he mused.

"A point he was quick to point out to me when I was talking to him last week."

"You were talking to him? What did he say?" Pastor Jim, just like Bobby, was a bit on the outs with John, and as a result, did not keep in touch as often as they used to.

"Told him you were doing good in school, that you had a break coming up and I wanted to spend a couple days with you," Dean shrugged. "He told me that if you and I didn't show up on his door step in time for Christmas, he'd never let us on the property again." Dean smiled, "So like I said, it's not Vegas, but will it do?"

Sam remembered the one Christmas they had spent at the Pastor's when they were kids. He had been six and Dean had been ten. Dad had dropped them off and promised he would be back in a couple days. John had kept his word and returned in time for Christmas morning. It was the only holiday that Sam could remember smiling and having fun all day, he and Dean just having a chance to be normal kids for once.

"Dude," Dean interrupted his reverie, "where'd you go?"

"Oh man," Sam sighed happily. "You know what I just thought about?"

"Tijuana and Flamenco dancers?"

Sam back handed him lightly in the arm, "No Dude… Elsie's apple pie." Sam leaned his head back against the cracked headrest and smiled. The pastor's wife was this tiny little woman who could work magic in the kitchen. Her specialty was her apple pie, and Sam had never tasted better in all his travels across the country.

"I know," Dean replied, "I haven't stopped thinking about shortbread since Monday." That said something about Elsie's cookies because Dean was a pie man through and through. Dean wouldn't even think about eating shortbread unless it was Elsie's.

"Dean, we're seriously going all the way to Blue Earth?"

"Sammy, you make it sound like I don't drive for a living," Dean scoffed.

"A living?" Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother. Hustling and credit card scams didn't count as a living.

"Screw off. You know what I mean." Dean jabbed him in the bicep with his elbow.

"Ow man." he winced and rubbed his arm. "It's a couple days drive," he insisted, though he knew that didn't matter to Dean.

"Look, I figure if we haul ass, and take shifts driving, we'll be there in time for dinner day after tomorrow."

"Shifts?" Sam perked up. "I'll get to drive?"

"You hurt my baby Sammy," Dean warned while rubbing the dash affectionately, "and I'll bury you where they'll never find you."

"Alright then." Sam agreed to the empty threat. "Blue Earth, here we come."

* * *

32 hours straight driving later…

They made it to the friendly Pastor's early evening. Elsie made a grandmotherly fuss over them, plying them with food and sweets and exclaiming that they were so grown up now. She had been especially pleased when Sam and Dean started bringing in all the things they had purchased at the local farmers market on their way there. Dean had pulled into the store parking lot, took a list out of his pocket and led the way into the store. Manhandling a shopping cart as if he'd never used one before, he dumped a twenty-pound bag of potatoes in, along with big bags of flour, apples, carrots, butter, bread, and a flat of eggs. Walking up to the cashier, he asked her what else he would need for his grandmother to make the world's best shortbread cookies. The cashier handed him a box of cornstarch and Dean said, "Better make that two – I want a big batch."

They had been brought up knowing that the Pastor and his wife would do anything for them, but to not impose on them too heavily. Feeding the two of them would burden the elderly couple too much financially and Dean didn't mind buying the groceries with his bogus credit cards if it meant that Elsie would cook up a storm for them. Sam could almost smell the homemade bread now and his mouth actually started to water.

Dean called ahead when they were an hour out, and Elsie had supper ready on the stove for them when they arrived. It had been a long time since Sam had had anything that resembled a home cooked meal and he sighed with contentment when they dug into the roast beef dinner. They stayed in the kitchen long after supper with the elderly couple, Sam telling them all about Stanford and Dean told them all about the latest hunts with Dad. Pastor Jim and Elsie had lost their only daughter to a demon possession before Sam and Dean were born, awakening them to the terrible world of supernatural evil. They were never told how John and Jim crossed paths and began their friendship, Sam always figured they met on a hunt somewhere, and John found common ground with a man who also had his world ripped apart by the supernatural.

At the late hour of nine, Elsie yawned and wished them all a good-night. Dean waited to hear the bedroom door shut upstairs before giving them all a conspiratory smile, walked to his jacket hanging by the door, and withdrew a bottle of scotch from the pocket.

Jim smiled and fetched three glass tumblers from the cupboard. Elsie would never say anything to them about the evils of drinking, but she would silently disapprove, which would be just as bad. But Jim loved good scotch, so they sat up till midnight, the contents of the bottle diminishing slowly, talking and laughing and Sam thought about what a good Christmas this was already shaping up to be.

* * *

The next morning, after a heart-attack breakfast, Sam and Dean headed out to the barn. There had been a rule since they were young that if they were staying with the Pastor, they had to earn their keep. So, despite the chilling Minnesota weather, the two brothers opened the doors of the barn, grabbed the axes off the wall, and went to work on the pile of logs that were going to be next winters heat source. The hard work felt good and soon Sam had worked up a sweat. The steady rise and fall of the axe while they split wood was soothing and _normal._ He and Dean joked about old stories, Dean teased him about girls and Sam called him names back in a ritual they'd had since they were kids.

Sam loaded up the old sled with split wood to stack it in the rear porch of the house for Elsie. He planned on filling the small room so that Pastor Jim wouldn't have to re-stock it for awhile after they left. Pulling the sled across the snowy yard, twenty yards out from the barn, something cold and wet smacked into the back of his head. He reached up, his fingers coming away with bits of snow. He whirled around only to get a face full of another snowball from Dean.

"This means war Dude!" Sam yelled, crouching to gather up a fistful of snow himself. Dean only grinned sarcastically and pelted him again.

For nearly ten minutes the snowball war raged on. Sam should have known he didn't stand a chance. Dean had always had better aim, and his throwing arm hadn't diminished over the years away from the high school baseball teams he played on when he could.

"I surrender!" Sam called, laughing at himself and his brother who was nearly as covered in snow as he was.

"That's right Bitch." Dean grinned, helping to toss some of the wood back on the sled that had gotten tipped off when Sam had kicked it. "Who's the snowball champ?"

Dean didn't see Sam's foot come out in a sweeping kick and he handed on his ass in the snow. "You are Bro." Sam laughed, picking up the rope on the sled and heading for the porch leaving his brother to pick himself up out of the snow and cursing.

At lunch they went back into the house, where Elsie had made fried chicken and the apple pie and shortbread she had promised the boys. Sam was literally in heaven.

* * *

Christmas came and went. They shared a big turkey dinner with Jim and Elsie. They ate themselves stupid and ended up passing out in front of the TV in the living room to "It's a Wonderful Life". Sam had always heard that there was a chemical in turkey that made you sleepy, watching Dean as he shoveled food into his mouth made Sam think that it was just a form of exhaustion.

Their last day, saying goodbye to the preacher and his wife on the front porch, Elsie handed Dean a cookie tin full of what Sam knew were cookies for the road. Dean leaned down and kissed the old woman on the cheek, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, "If you ever get tired of Father Time over there, give me a call." Elsie laughed and swatted his arm, earning a grin and a wink from Dean. "Feisty… I like that."

Pastor Jim laughed and gripped Dean's shoulder. "You boys have a safe trip back now. And don't let it be such a long time before your next visit."

"We won't," Sam answered, leaning down to plant his own kiss on his adopted grandmother's forehead.

"Take care Sweetheart, and study hard. The Lord has big plans for you, I know it," she whispered.

"Thanks for everything Elsie," Sam whispered back.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, "I almost forgot." Turning back into the house, she returned with a dish in her hands which she thrust on Sam. "Here, I can't send you off without this." Sam could smell the apples and cinnamon wafting up through the cloth covering the dish.

"Elsie, forget Dean – call me instead."

"Come on little brother," Dean laughed. "Let's hit the road before Jim breaks out the shotgun for us trying to steal his wife."

Jim clapped Sam on the back as he walked down the steps, "Take care Son, and come back anytime."

"Bye, Jim."

Sam and Dean threw a wave as the Impala turned in the yard and made her way down the long dirt driveway.

As soon as they hit the road, Dean quirked an eyebrow at him, "Dude, you know you're sharing that pie right?"

* * *

Two days later, Dean was dropping Sam off in front of his dorm. He couldn't stay because he had to go meet Dad in Lafayette – some voodoo thing.

Dean got out of the car and hurried to the back to open the trunk. As Sam was pulling his bag from the back seat, he stood up to find Dean standing behind him and holding a small metal box about the size of a shoe box. As Sam slung his bag over his shoulder, he took in the apprehensive look on his brother's face.

"Dean, what is it?" Sam eyed the box warily.

"This is for you Sammy," Dean said as he thrust the box into Sam's hands. Sam heard the tell-tale sound of clanging metal coming from the locked metal box. Dean took a key that must have been for the padlock on the box and dropped it into Sam's shirt pocket.

"What's in the box, Dean?" Though Sam had an idea what was in it and was trying not to lose his temper.

"Look Sammy," Dean had an almost pleading look in his eyes, "I know you gave up hunting. I know you always hated it and you're not coming back." Dean looked away quickly before turning back to his brother and forging on. "But walking away doesn't mean that what's out there doesn't exist anymore, and the thought that you're here by yourself, without any protection… I just can't take it Sammy."

"Dean – I…" Sam started, touched by the concern his brother had for him. He wasn't trying to coerce him back into hunting, he was just trying to give him a means of taking care of himself.

Dean shook his head, plastering a fake smile on his face to lighten the mood. "Just look out for yourself, okay Sam?"

"Sure Dean," he said softly to his brother's retreating back, already wrenching open the door to the Impala and swinging himself in. Sam walked to the driver's side of the car, letting his bag rest on the ground next to the black metal box.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Sam never heard it. Instead Dean caught sight of two girls walking along the opposite sidewalk, one of them looked over and Dean caught her eye, giving her a small nod. She smiled, and nudged her friend, both of them glancing over their shoulders as they continued their way up the street.

"Crap!" Dean cursed, "I gotta go meet Dad," he groaned, staring longingly at the pretty girls. "So," Dean started as Sam leaned in the passenger window, "See you in a couple of months for a week in Sin City?" Dean eyes were still following the girls.

"You got it," Sam grinned.

"See you soon Sammy – try to get into some trouble." Dean nodded at the girls that were now rounding the end of the block.

"You try to stay out of it." Sam replied, saying it lightly like a joke but meaning every word.

Dean gave him a shit-eating grin before putting the car in gear and pulling away.

Inside a few minutes later, Sam's curiosity took over and he pulled the key from his shirt pocket and unlocked the box. Inside was a nine-millimeter, regular rounds and silver rounds, a silver knife, a flask that was filled with liquid that Sam assumed was holy water, an exorcism book, along with various herbs, amulets, charms and even a Mojo bag.

In an envelope in the bottom of the box, Sam found two photographs. They were old Polaroids. Ten year old Dean was pulling six year old Sam around on a familiar old wooden sled. Sam recognized the corner of the barn in the background as Pastor Jim's. Both boys were smiling and red-cheeked from the cold. Young Sam was waving enthusiastically at the photographer who adult Sam was guessing was Elsie. The next photo was of Dean sitting behind Sam on the sled, with John's hands on Dean's shoulders, readying to push them down the incline and Sam's face was alight with childish excitement. Sam had never seen these pictures before and could only assume that Dean had found them while at the Pastor's for Christmas. Sam's gaze settled back on the second photo, on the contented look on his father's face. It was a look that Sam had rarely seen on the old man's face and was glad that someone had caught it on camera.

Sam carefully locked the box back up and slid it beneath his bed, far out of sight. He then crossed the room to his desk, opened the top drawer and added the new pictures to the envelope that contained all his other photos.

Spring Break 2003, Vegas

True to his word, Dean arrived at Sam's dorm at the start of Spring Break, whistling happily as Sam got into the front seat.

"Dude! Are you _giddy_?" Sam laughed.

"Excited, little brother. Little girls get giddy around ponies. Grown men get excited when they're going to Vegas for a week of gambling and strippers." He said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together in anticipation.

(- - Let it Ride, by Bachman-Turner Overdrive - -)

The drive across the desert was a fun one. It was hot and the windows were down, the radio blasting out all of Dean's driving music and his brother lecturing him about Alex Lifeson and his guitar god status.

The first stop after checking into a cheap and run down motel behind the Strip, was to the MGM Grand. Dean struck it big at the poker tables when Sam refused to do the Rainman bit at the Black Jack tables. Dean had an uncanny way of reading people, especially in ways where he could take their money.

At two A.M. Dean called it quits, promising to come back the next day to steal more of his opponent's money. They headed for a seedy strip club at Dean's insistence. They walked in, blue lights flashing and scantily clad waitresses walked around with trays of drinks. On the stage was a black haired beauty gyrating seductively to the Guess Who's 'American Woman'. She was wearing strappy four inch red heels and not much else.

Dean took a seat at an empty table right next to the stage. "God… I love it when they know how to work the pole." Sam took the seat next to him and felt really uncomfortable being there with his brother. He couldn't really explain why – they had grown up where privacy and modesty were non-existent. Sam couldn't even think of how many times he'd actually walked in on his brother with one girl or another. Dean was completely shameless when it came to sex.

Dean leaned forward on the stage, holding a twenty between his fingers for the dancer. She dropped to her knees and crawled to Dean to retrieve the tip. "When are you off tonight?" He asked her throatily. She only winked at him and took the bill from his fingers with her teeth, before going back to her act. Dean blew her a kiss and leaned back in his chair, a big grin on his face. He signaled to a waitress and ordered a pitcher of beer. Taking a long drink when it arrived he threw an exasperated glance at Sam. "Sammy! Will you loosen up already?" Sam took a drink of his own beer instead of answering. "Hey," Dean continued, "…what if I bought you a lap dance?" He grinned.

"Buy yourself a lap dance," Sam responded sullenly.

"I plan on," Dean flashed him his shit-eating grin. "I just thought that if you got one too, you'd loosen up and stop trying to kill my buzz."

"Sorry man, I just don't want to be here." He paused, "Maybe I'll just head back to the motel and I'll see you later." He started to rise from his seat when Dean grabbed his wrist.

"Hold up Dude," he said. "Look at what we got here." Sam followed his gaze to two gorgeous women coming straight at them. They were both about the same height and roughly Dean's age. One was dark haired while the other was blonde, and both were wearing skimpy dresses. They smiled as they reached his and Dean's table, Sam had completely forgotten that he was about to leave.

"Hi," the blonde said brightly. "Do you mind if we join you? There don't seem to be any other seats in this place." That was a complete lie, there were plenty of empty tables but Sam wasn't about to point that out because his brain had momentarily stalled.

"Of course ladies! By all means!" Dean got up and even pulled a chair out for the blonde. She smiled winningly at him as her friend sat down in the seat next to Sam.

"Hi," the dark haired one said as she held out her hand to Sam. "I'm April."

"Nice to meet you April," Sam said as he shook her hand. "I'm Sam."

"And I'm Chrissy," the blonde bubbled as she held out her hand to Dean.

Instead of shaking her hand, Dean brought the back of her hand to his lips and kissed it. "And I'm enchanted," Dean said, looking her deep in the eyes.

Chrissy giggled and Sam rolled his eyes. "Casanova here also goes by Dean," he huffed.

"Hi Dean," she whispered breathily, leaning closer to him.

Chrissy and April seemed to be right at home in the strip club. They didn't pay much attention to the dancers. Instead, they were paying rapt attention to the Winchester bothers. Dean ordered more drinks and he and Sam were getting more and more drunk. Chrissy was all over Dean, and he was reciprocating her attentions. April was trying the same thing with Sam, but as much as Sam had to drink, he found he wasn't really interested in her. She was beautiful and definitely into him, but Sam thought she was trying too hard and was getting put off by it.

Dean and Chrissy were whispering in each other's ears, and finally they both got up from their chairs and started to walk away –Dean's arm thrown casually over Chrissy's shoulders. Sam scraped his chair back and jogged after his brother despite April's indignation.

"Hey Dean!" He called. "Wait up!"

Dean turned, "What Sammy?" He asked impatiently.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He snapped sarcastically. "Maybe you should do the same thing."

"Dean…"

Dean held up a hand to stop him. "Look Sammy, Chrissy and me are goin' back to her place. Why don't you take April back to our motel and show her a good time, huh?" He said as he clapped Sam on the back.

"Dude, I'm not really that interested in her." He confessed.

"Then have another couple of drinks. You'll come around."

"Dean, I got a funny feeling about her. Something isn't right." He wasn't a hunter anymore, but you couldn't tell that to his hunter's intuition.

"Dude," Dean grinned, "…didn't we discuss your funny feelings when you were thirteen? I told you then that it was completely natural."

"That is _**so**_ not what I'm talking about," he growled.

"Look Sam," Dean was starting to get irritated. "I'm taking off with Chrissy. If you're smart, you'll have another couple of drinks with the lovely Miss April, take her back to our room and get laid." Dean started to walk away.

"Dean!" Sam called after him.

"I'll see you tomorrow Sammy!" He shouted over his shoulder.

"But not too early!" Chrissy giggled. Dean put his arm around her and led her out the door.

Going back to the table, Sam grabbed his coat off the back of the chair and started to walk away.

"Hey!" April shouted. "Where are you going?"

"Back to my motel. Alone." He said, turning to face her. The anger in her face twisted it and Sam wondered how he could have ever thought she was beautiful.

"And just what am I supposed to do?" She said angrily. "Chrissy took your brother back to our room."

"I don't know. You could hang out here. There's still a lot of guys here, you could always try one of them for a place to stay." Sam didn't like being so hateful, but he didn't feel like he should be obligated to have sex with this girl that he didn't know and didn't like.

"You bastard!" She yelled at his retreating back.

Man, this girl was really something. Sam wasn't sure why, but he felt like he had just dodged a bullet. A silver cased, consecrated ion, soaked in holy water bullet.

* * *

Sam was sitting in a little diner eating an early breakfast when his cell phone started to vibrate. Flipping it open he said, "Dude, why are you calling so early?"

"Hey Sammy," came Dean's voice, though it sounded far away.

"Dean… Why do you have me on speaker-phone?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"Funny thing, that." Dean interjected. "Sam did you ever see that episode of Seinfeld where George meets the woman on the train and goes to a hotel with her, only she cuffs him to the bed and then steals all his money?"

"What does that have to do with you calling me so early?" Sam said sourly. He had had too much to drink the night before and he was feeling it now.

"Well…" Dean trailed off.

"Whoa!" Sam exclaimed, trying not to laugh, the effort making his head hurt even worse. "Dude, did she tie you up and rob you?" He snickered, oblivious to the dirty looks he was getting from the grey-haired woman in the table next to him. "And she left you there?"

"Can you come and get me out of here?"

"What's wrong? No paper clips to jimmy your way out of those cuffs?" Sam was holding his stomach, he was laughing so hard.

"We didn't use cuffs."

"You let her tie you up with rope?" Sam was incredulous. The grey-hair shot him another dirty look.

"No… silk scarves."

Sam laughed even harder.

"Hey!" Dean yelled in his own defense. "It sounded pretty kinky to me – and you should have seen what she was wearing under that dress. Wow!"

"Dean, tell me you're not naked. 'Cuz I will leave your ass there for the maid to find if you are."

"Relax Sammy, I'm covered. Will you just come get me?" He griped.

"What's the address?" Sam sighed.

* * *

Sam arrived at the motel that Dean had told him. Finding the door, he knocked and called out, "Dean? You in there?"

"Yeah Sammy. You'll have to pick the lock," came Dean's muffled shout from behind the door.

Sam dropped to eye-level with the lock and withdrew Dean's lock-set from his pocket. Thirty seconds and the door creaked open. Sam stepped inside and quickly shut the door behind him. Turning to laugh at his brother's predicament, he threw his arm over his face to shield eyes and cried, "Dude! You told me that you were dressed!"

"No," Dean said calmly, "I told you I was covered." Dean had only a shear pink scarf draped across his gear.

"That doesn't count as covered!"

"Does in my book." Sam couldn't see Dean's expression as he was still covering his eyes, but he could tell from the sound of his brother's voice that he was smirking.

"God! You're such an ass!" Sam cursed as he threw a towel over his brother's nakedness. Now that Dean was safely covered, Sam looked at him to see that he was wearing his usual shit-eating grin.

"What are you smiling at?" Sam snapped. "That girl stole all your money."

"Not all of it," Dean smiled. "I only had forty bucks in there. And one of the bad credit cards that will just get cut up as soon as she tries to use it." Dean was laughing to himself as Sam just shook his head.

"How did she manage to only get forty bucks? You won a crap load of cash at the poker tables."

"I know that. So did she – 'cuz Chrissy and her friend were there and they followed us from the casino to the strip club." Dean was still smirking to himself.

"You mean they were trying to play us?" Sam said incredulously. He was having difficulty with the knots in the scarves that bound Dean's wrists to the headboard of the bed. "Chrissy must have done this sort of thing before because an amateur couldn't tie someone up so efficiently."

"Oh, they were pros alright." Dean agreed. "They thought that they had us made. It's a good thing that I notice when good looking girls follow me around."

"You knew they were following you and you let them sit with us anyway?"

"Never look a gift horse, or a good looking girl in the mouth Sammy. Well – not unless she's… you know." Dean winked.

"Aghhh! Dude! There is seriously something wrong with you!" Sam was fed up with the knots and pulled his knife from his pocket to cut the scarves instead. He tossed Dean's clothes at him from the pile on the floor and turned his back for his brother to dress.

"You may have been too wasted to notice Sammy," Dean lectured as he shimmied into his jeans. "But they never actually drank anything. They only pretended to drink and acted like they were drunk." Dean drew his t-shirt over his head and Sam turned around to face his brother.

"If you knew they were up to something, why did you go off with her?" Sam's eyes narrowed.

"Hey, I love to be proven wrong." Dean grinned.

"So how did Chrissy only manage to get forty bucks out of you?"

"Check your jacket pocket Dude." Dean shrugged as he pulled on his shirt over his t-shirt.

Sam put a hand in all the pockets and on the inside pocket he found a small wad of hundreds where he normally stashed a pack of gum. "How did this get here?"

"I stashed it there for safe-keeping before I left with the thief."

"And what if I had gone home with April? She would have tied me up and stole it from me."

"You weren't gonna go off with that skank," Dean said casually as he did up the last button on his shirt. "You were my ace in the hole."

"You were trying to push me into having sex with her," Sam reminded him.

"That was just for appearances sake Sammy. You were being pretty obvious that you weren't diggin'er." Dean was threading his belt through the loops of his jeans now.

"Alright, so I was your safe-deposit box for the night. Why did you go off with Chrissy?"

Dean grinned at his brother. "'Cuz I knew I'd get what I wanted."

"You still had sex with her?" Sam was shocked.

"Hey! It's not my fault she didn't check my wallet until after the deed." Dean chuckled. "The bondage bit was an encore performance. You should have seen her face when she opened my wallet and there wasn't anything there." He was full on laughing now. "I pulled the innocent Kansas boy routine and I told her I'd never had to pay for sex before and asked if I could leave her an I.O.U."

Sam was laughing along with his brother now. No one played him.

* * *

A/N: I had the Vegas bit (and the tied up Dean bit – yum) written ages ago... long before I saw Sherlock Holmes. Damn Guy Ritchie stole my bit.

Happy Unattached Drifter's Christmas to you all, and may you survive the five week hiatus in one piece. I for one will be doing oodles of writing to keep myself busy.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox.

Chapter 3

December 19, 2003

The east coast was a supernatural hotbed for the rest of the year, keeping Dean and John on the other side of the country. So it was a long time since Sam had seen his brother. Only two days in July – that was the last time he'd seen Dean. Not that that mattered much. Between working the whole summer as a night watchman at a local office building, and the two summer courses he was taking at the college so that he could keep his room, he hadn't had much free time anyway. But it was Christmas Break and Dean was on his way to spend it with him. Dean had actually told their dad to '_cram it_' when John had tried to coax him into a job in Lincoln. But as if Sam believed that.

The location of their destination was still a surprise to the youngest Winchester. He was hoping it was to Pastor Jim's again. It didn't really matter… anywhere he could spend a couple days with his brother was perfect for him.

Finally, the Impala came into view. Sam came down the steps of his dorm and waited for his brother on the sidewalk.

"Dude!" Dean exclaimed, "Did you get bigger?"

Sam flipped him the middle finger salute. Dean knew he was a little self-conscious about his size.

"Freakin' Sasquatch!" The older brother muttered to the steering wheel.

"Screw you man," he shot back, dropping into the passenger seat of the Impala. "So where we going? Jim and Elsie's again?" He asked hopefully.

"Naw… I was talking to Jim a couple of days ago." Dean answered as he pulled back onto the road. "He said Elsie was a little under the weather and that a visit wouldn't be the best idea right now."

"Is she okay?" Sam asked, worry creeping into his voice. He'd never grown close to many people, so when there's someone close to his heart like Elsie is, and there's something wrong… it gets to him.

"Yeah, she'll be fine. You know how old people get – a cold hits them harder than others."

"So where we going?"

"Bobby's." Dean was wearing a self satisfied grin, and Sam could feel the corners of his mouth twitching up too.

"Dude, are you shitting me?" Sam hadn't seen Bobby in a long time and the older hunter had long ago won the title of honorary uncle. Sam had always been able to relate to Bobby better than his own father.

"Nope." Dean snorted at the steering wheel as he threaded his way through traffic. "Bobby got his ass kicked by a poltergeist last week and is holed up at his place while his arm mends. Said to make sure to pick up some beer before we get there or he won't let us in."

"Bobby's. Awesome."

The drive to South Dakota was a long one. Not as long as the one to Minnesota last year, but a long drive none the less. Sam thought back to when everything had really started to go to hell. He'd been sixteen and rebelling against his father. His attitude looked all the worse compared to Dean who followed orders to the letter, even picking up Sam's slack on hunts. But Sam wanted out. Wanted out so bad he could taste it. They had been at Bobby's when John had caught Sam looking at college brochures Bobby had collected for him. John blew a fuse, typically. He could barely say two words to his youngest son without starting an argument and leaving Dean in the middle, trying to defuse the situation. More than once he actually dragged one of the two away before fists were thrown. But Bobby had a hard time keeping his mouth shut to John when it came to the boys. More than once Bobby had told John that this was no life for kids, and told him the best thing for his family would be to give up on revenge and just walk away – alive. Those arguments never ended well either.

But that day, while Sam had been innocently reading about the University of Phoenix, John started ranting about how school was useless, there were bigger things to do with life than school, they had a job to do. It was the usual rant Sam had heard a thousand times. But it was all the worse because Bobby walked in from the kitchen, shouting at dad that he was '_an idjit and a damned fool_' for trying to keep the boy under his thumb. That if Sam wanted to go to school, he should be encouraged to go. That set John off even worse, calling Bobby a meddling old woman and to mind his own fucking business. '_These boys are my fucking business,'_ had been Bobby's reply, which had touched Sam. He always knew Bobby cared about them, but words like that weren't said between them. John took off in a fit of rage, came limping back three days later and reeking of cheap whiskey. It had been a quiet and restful three days for Sam, not so much for Dean who was worried sick about dad being off on his own. The next couple of months had been hell – the shouting just never stopped.

As a result of John's refusal to allow Sam to go off on his own and have a chance at a normal life, Bobby and John had a bit of a falling out. They still remained in contact, just to let each other know what hunts they were working and that they were alive. But other than that, the two friends had little to do with each other. And since John wasn't going to South Dakota to hang out at Bobby's between hunts, or going hunting with the seasoned hunter, the boys didn't see Bobby after that.

So the fact that Bobby was expecting them for a few days over the holidays buoyed Sam's mood. Bobby never pushed them into researching jobs, or memorizing spells and incantations or exorcisms. Bobby didn't make them do blindfolded weapon assembly or grappling exorcises. Bobby was just Bobby, and Sam couldn't wait to see his pseudo-uncle.

* * *

"Bout damn time you idjits got here!" Bobby's heavy boots echoed across the weathered planks of the porch. Rumsfeld, the giant Rottweiler, plodded along at his heels. Bobby Singer was not a larger man than any of the Winchesters, but he was an imposing figure regardless. Grizzled beard, trucker hat and greasy vest… it was as if the last three years hadn't happened and they had only seen Uncle Bobby a month or so ago. The only thing that had changed about the elder hunter was a graying around the ears and deeper wrinkles about the eyes.

"Hey Bobby!" Dean called making his way to the trunk and opening it. Dean struggled to pull the two two-fours of Bud out of the trunk without launching their duffel bags into the frozen dirt in the process. "We come bearing gifts!" Dean plastered a shit-eating grin on his face, hoisting the beer like the Stanley Cup for all to see.

"You damn well better have. Else you'd 'ave been haulin' ass back to town." Bobby ambled down the porch steps to greet them. Mindful of the sling around his injured arm, Bobby wrapped a meaty arm around Sam's shoulders and gave him a back-thumping hug. "Damn good to see ya boy!" He growled.

"You too Bobby," Sam replied, returning the back-thump and looking over Bobby's shoulder at the old run down house. Though not cozy like Jim and Elsie's farm, Bobby's had been a place of solitude and learning while the boys had been growing up. A sanctuary almost. Bobby had a quieter way of teaching and talking to the boys in a way that John never acquired. It was a way that Sam responded to better than his drill sergeant of a father's demanding orders. And while Bobby liked to fly under the radar and have people assume he was some dumb mechanic and tow-truck driver, Bobby possessed an intelligence and wit that would surpass some of the professors he had back at Stanford.

"What do you say we break up the love fest and break into the holiday cheer, huh?" Dean thumped Bobby on the back and lifted the cases of beer.

"That's a damn fine idea boy. Come on in." And they followed Bobby into the warm, dusty house.

They got wasted that first night. The kind of drink your face off, falling over, everything is funny, drunk. Dean and Bobby traded stories back and forth about their latest hunts, Dean bragged about barroom conquests and Bobby and Sam got into a longwinded theological debate about the similarities between Christianity and Paganism. Though they were slurring their words terribly, each knew exactly what the other was talking about.

It was good to be back with his family.

* * *

December 24, 2003

It was Christmas Eve. A sling-less Bobby was just pulling the Christmas frozen pizza from the oven when Rumsfeld started barking at the door. A moment later headlights flashed over the cluttered and dusty shelves of Bobby's front room. Sam looked out the window to see who had pulled in, but the front light wasn't on and it was too dark to see. Bobby came in from the kitchen just as heavy footsteps crossed the porch. Sam came back from the window to stand next to him, while Bobby's hand strayed to the shoulder holster he wore under his ever-present vest. Whoever was out there was an unexpected guest – and in the family business – that was bad.

Dean came running into the room and grabbed Bobby's gun arm, stopping him from pulling his piece. "No. Don't."

There was no knock at the door, it just swung open and standing in the gently falling snow was John Winchester. "God damn!" He exclaimed as he rigorously brushed snow from his dark hair. "It's colder than a witch's heart out there."

Sam stumbled forward, pushing Dean out of the way. "Dad?" He breathed. It had been fifteen months since he last saw his father. And here he was, larger than life and in the same room.

John looked up sharply at his voice. A scowl crossed his face. "What the hell are you doing here?" He demanded.

"I invited 'im," Bobby rebuked him, "which is more 'an I can say for you." Coming to stand between John and his son, "What the hell are you doin' here?" Sam could feel white hot anger creeping up from his stomach. His hands balled up into tight fists as his jaw clenched as his father continued to stare furiously at him.

"Dean called me yesterday. Told me he was here and to stop by when I finished my hunt." John glared as his oldest son for a moment before turning said glare on his youngest. "He didn't tell me you'd be here." There was an undeniable hint of disgust in his voice when he looked at his youngest son.

"All this time," Sam ground out, "…and that's what you got to say to me?"

"What should I say?" John seethed. "You walked out on me and your brother. Turned your fucking back on us when we needed you!"

"I only turned my back on you, you fucking dick!" Sam yelled back. Dean was in front of him, pushing on his chest to put some distance between the two titans.

"Dad! Sammy! Stop it!" Dean shouted.

"No Dean, no no no no no. Junior and I are gonna talk about this." John took a step closer to his boys.

"What do you have to say old man?" Sam taunted him.

"Shut the fuck up Sam!" Dean growled, still trying to push him into the other room.

"Let the boy say what's on his mind Dean," John said in a soft but dangerous voice. "Let the big man get it off his chest. You know he's dying to." And Sam had seen his dad before when his eyes went black like they were now. And he'd heard before when his dad's voice got all soft and calm like it was now. And Sam knew what a powder keg his dad was when both those things came together. But right now – Sam didn't fucking care.

"Back off John," Bobby warned.

"You're such a fucking asshole, you know that?" Sam shouted over his brother. John's eyes narrowed with menace.

"Sam!" Dean pushed him.

"You're pathetic! All you've ever cared about was hunting and revenge!"

"Sam!" Dean yelled and shoved him again. John bristled and took another step closer.

"Dean and I were never anything but fucking cannon fodder to you! You're a piss poor excuse for a father and you know it." Sam hissed. "You think mom would have wanted…"

Sam said the magic word and John charged, knocking Dean out of the way and grabbing his youngest son by the collar, pushing him against a bookcase. John pressed one meaty forearm against Sam's windpipe, cutting off his airway and pinning him to the shelf. John had his fist cocked back, ready to strike, his eyes black with anger.

"Do it." Sam grunted against the force on his throat. "You know you're dying to."

"Dad, don't." Dean pleaded.

A long black metal barrel appeared by John's head. Bobby was at the other end of that barrel, his face grim and determined.

"Stay out of this Singer." John growled.

"Time to go John." Bobby said with all the calm authority of the most seasoned hunter.

"You won't do it." John didn't take his eyes from Sam. Dean was watching the display from his position on the floor, horror stricken.

There was the deadly hiss and double-click of Bobby cocking the shotgun. "Let go of the boy, and get off my land." Bobby pressed the barrel against his friend's temple. "Now."

John glared at Bobby, but he released his hold on Sam and stepped back. Bobby slid into place between the oldest and youngest Winchester, keeping the muzzle of the shotgun on John's chest, and effectively walking him to the door. John looked around the room. From Dean on the floor, to Bobby's calm face, to Sam standing red-faced and panting, curled fists at his side.

"Well this has been fun." He scoffed. "Thanks for the hospitality Bobby. Bye boys."

"Dad! Wait!" Dean called out, but John turned the knob and swept through the door with a speed and grace that belied his size. The door slammed shut with an echoing silence that filled the room. Sam stood there, quivering with anger and adrenaline. Dean's arm was still outstretched towards the door as if his will alone would bring their father back.

Sam walked towards his brother, gripping his wrist and hoisting him to his feet. Sam threw a vicious right hook at his brother's jaw as he stood, knocking him back to the floor in surprise.

"What the hell Sammy?!"

"You called him!" He shouted with indignation. "You called him and told him to come here!"

"Of course I called him!"

"How could you do that to me Dean? How? You know how I feel about the man!"

"I thought after all this time, you'd be at least able to make peace with him for a fucking day!" Dean struggled to his feet, holding his jaw and wincing.

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth! I put up with years of his crap, and it's supposed to fade away like it never happened just because I've been gone?"

"Sammy," Dean growled, "Tomorrow, Dad could be dead. Hell, tomorrow I could be dead, and you would rather go the rest of your life knowing you never tried to make it better with him? That's selfish of you."

"There is no making it work with that man Dean and you know it. It's his way or no way – and it's _always_ his way." Sam said through clenched teeth, towering over his brother.

"Well forgive me if I wanted to try and piece my family back together, _Princess_." Dean was toe to toe with his younger brother and the both of them were beyond pissed.

"Boys…" Bobby cut in, trying to break them apart.

"I can't believe you did that to me," Sam shook his head in disbelief. "What did you think was gonna happen? How did you think that was gonna turn out? You know what? Stay away from me." Sam stalked down the hall to the room he'd been sleeping in. Grabbing his duffel, he threw everything into it and was ready to leave sixty seconds later. He stormed towards the front door and wrenched it open.

"Aww Sammy… What are you doin'? Don't leave," Dean wheedled derisively.

"Stay. The fuck. Away. From me." Sam ground out and headed out into the snow.

"Sam!" But Sam slammed the door on his brother's voice. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been so angry.

Yes he could. It was the day he walked away in the first place.

He wasn't at the end of Bobby's long driveway when headlights flashed over the fence posts and trees. It wasn't the Impala though, it was Bobby's primer riddled Chevelle. "Where you offta son?"

"I gotta go Bobby. I'm sorry." Sam was still walking swiftly on the side of the drive.

"Where you gonna go? It's Christmas Eve, come back before yer idjit brother does somethin' stupid."

"What? Like call dad and tell him to come hang out for Christmas? Jerk."

"Your brother didn't want that to happen. His intentions were in the right spot."

"His intentions," Sam huffed. "You know, it's just not the holidays until someone pulls a gun, you know that Bobby?"

"Happens in lots a families – not just ours." Bobby's car was crawling along in pace with Sam's long angry strides. And Sam didn't miss the _our family_ – not _your family_. Just goes to show where Bobby really stands with them. "Come back to the house kid. Don't walk off angry like this."

"I can't Bobby, I just can't."

"So what-cha gonna do?"

"I'm gonna go to town, and catch the first bus west."

"There won't be any bus until at least tomorrow… maybe the next day," Bobby tried to reason with him.

"Then I'll wait."

"It's twenty miles to town. You can't walk all that way in the cold."

"Watch me."

"Jesus Sam! Will you stop being so God-damn stubborn?!" Bobby pounded the steering wheel. He sped the wreck up and cut the wheel so that the car blocked the drive.

"Let me go Bobby."

"You can't walk away from your brother like this. It'll kill 'im. You know how he holds onta everything you and your daddy throw at him – lets it eat at 'im."

Sam set his jaw and looked the other way. He was so mad right now that he didn't care how much it would hurt his brother. Having your father pin you to a bookcase and ready to beat the snot out of you does that to a guy.

"Look…" Bobby said a reasoning tone. "I'll drive you to town myself – right now. Just stay at a room in town and calm down. I'll come back in the morning and get ya when you've cooled off and yer ready to come back."

Sam huffed, 'fine,' and made his way to the passenger seat. He sat heavily in the old car, and the twenty mile drive was a silent one. Sam wasn't mad at Bobby, he obviously hadn't been in on Dean's scheme. But he didn't want to risk saying anything to tip off the wily hunter, or risk saying something to offend a man he deeply admired.

Bobby dropped him off at the Berkley Shades motel, with a promise to come for him in the morning when he was ready. "Thanks for the lift Bobby, appreciate it." Sam shut the door and walked into the office. The first thing he did after paying for the room was to ask the clerk for a bus schedule.

There was one bright and early. He would not be going back to Bobby's and his traitor of a brother.

January, 2004

"_Damn it Sam! Will you pick up the damn phone and talk to me?"_ Angry.

"_Sammy… Look, just call me back, okay?" _Pleading.

"_You stubborn sonofabitch! You know who you get that from, right?"_ Insulting.

"_Stop ignoring my calls Sammy. I'm starting to feel like one of my one night stands."_ Joking.

"_Sammy… just… damn it! Aarrghh! Call me back."_ Frustrated.

Three weeks and the messages were all the same. Sam deleted them every time his brother called – he was still too angry at Dean. He had spent a nearly three day bus trip back to California just going over the whole thing over and over again. It was like scratching at a mosquito bite, the more you do it, the worse it gets – and that was what was happening to his anger at his brother. What was Dean thinking to tell Dad to come to Bobby's? Bobby and John were barely on speaking terms as it was and Dean told him to show up? For a smart guy, that was a dumbass move on his brother's part.

"_Sam,"_ Bobby's gruff voice came out of the tiny speaker. _"If you wanna be mad at yer idjit brother, fine. But answer his damn calls before I hunt 'im down myself and beat the tar outta him. Fool's driving me crazy."_

Sam deleted Bobby's message too. It was just like Dean to try and use Bobby into guilt tripping him into talking to him again. What low would he sink to next? Pastor Jim? Elsie? All his life, he'd known he could always trust Dean, and Dean had sold him out. He'd tried to trick him and his dad into talking again and it backfired terribly. And every time he looked in the mirror and saw the angry bruise on his neck, he got angry all over again.

Sam recalled the look in his father's eyes as he pinned him against the shelf. It should have induced fear into him, like it did when he was a kid. The only difference now was that Sam was a grown man now, out from under his father's thumb and used to being on his own. His dad couldn't invoke the same fear that he used to.

Sam wasn't crazy. He knew his father was still a dangerous man and not to be trifled with, but that childhood fear was gone. His dad was an angry, driven and hurtful man. Completely single minded and military to the core – distant, with no room in his heart for anything other than his revenge. He had even raised his sons to hate all things supernatural, to fight them, to put themselves in danger. Dean was his perfect soldier, always striving to please the man, garner some kind of praise. But praise was a price too high for John Winchester to pay, so Dean gave everything he had and got nothing in return from the man he idolized. The whole thing was sickening, and Sam was glad to be out of it. He wouldn't be drawn into that circus anymore, so he pressed delete on every message.

* * *

The phone calls came less frequently now. Instead of a couple a week, they were reduced to one a week, then one every two. Letters showed up from time to time, Sam tossed them into a drawer in his desk – unopened but unable to throw them away. He went to school, did well in his classes, and kept to himself – just like always.

In March, while in his room studying, his cell rang. It showed Dean's name on the display so he let it go to voicemail. This was his habit now. Dean would leave a message, telling him a quick summary of a job, and then hang up with a _talk to ya later_. It was kind of comforting – these check-ins from Dean. It let Sam know where his brother was and that he was alive without having to actually talk to him.

When the light started blinking on the display, Sam picked the cell up and punched in the buttons to retrieve the message. His brother's voice was strained, emotional even – which was strange for Dean. It made Sam sit up straight and listen intently.

"_Hey Sammy. Just got word from Pastor Jim. Remember Elsie wasn't feeling well a couple months ago? Back when… well… never mind. She passed Sam. It was lung cancer, can you believe it? Woman never smoked a day in her life and now she's gone. She's gone. Just… just thought you should know."_

The line went dead and Sam replayed it. Dean's pain and remorse was clear in the way his voice hitched and broke as he spoke. Elsie was dead. Sweet, kind and generous Elsie. Queen of the kitchen. Gone. Sam felt a heavy weight settle in his stomach, and he felt his throat tighten as tears burned behind his eyes.

Sam buried his face in his hands and wept.

* * *

Sorry for the downer ending, but here's something to cheer you all up… season six confirmed!! Happy dance!!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Not even close.

Chapter 4

Late May, 2004

Sam was walking out of the campus book store, a couple books in his arms. He hadn't managed to get all his books second hand, so he had so shell out the bucks for new. People should be thrown in jail for making course books so expensive.

He sat down on a bench to study his new purchases. Just like the previous two summers, he enrolled in two summer courses so that he could keep living in residence, and he was due to start his night-time security gig in a couple of days. It wasn't all bad, the extra courses were good for his education, he'd finish a semester early, and the security gig put legitimate money in his pocket. Besides, it wasn't as if he wasn't used to sentry duty, only at this place he wasn't holding a shotgun and a flask of holy water. He was also hoping that his luck would hold and he would have another year of having his room to himself come fall.

"…come on baby, cut a guy some slack." Sam looked up to see a pretty blonde girl being followed by a greasy looking older guy as they hurried past him.

"I'm really sorry, but I'm not interested," the girl said. She was weighed down with several heavy books but that didn't slow her quick pace. Sam caught a glimpse of the guy's face and didn't like the predatory look in his eyes. Sam rose from his bench and followed them from a distance.

"I asked nicely Sweetheart," the greaser wheedled. "What's a guy gotta do to get your number?" They hurried around a corner and Sam paused at the corner of the building and peered around the brickwork. They had stopped at a late model blue Dodge Colt, at least ten years old, and the blonde was dumping her books into the trunk.

"Excuse me," she said, pushing past him on her way to the driver's door, "I have to go now."

"Hey!" Greasy shouted as he grabbed her arm, anger crossing his face. He spun her around and pushed her into the side of the car. "I ain't done with you."

Sam bolted around the corner. His running footsteps alerted the pair, and the jerk let go of her arm and backed up a step. He gave the guy a hard look as he slid into the new space between the guy and the blond. "Hey Honey," he said without looking at her, "thanks for waiting. I didn't think that line was ever gonna move." The greaser backed up another pace and Sam took another step towards the asshole that had grabbed her. Straightening to his full height he squared his shoulders, for once glad of his imposing size.

"Ahhh, no problem Sweetie," she said from behind him, playing along. "Did you find the books you need?"

"Yup," Sam said raising his arm that held his books. "Who's your friend?" he said, narrowing his gaze on the guy who backed up another step.

"Oh, he was just leaving – weren't you." It wasn't a question but her voice wavered slightly.

Sam took a step closer to the guy, wanting way more distance between him and the girl. Greasy held up his hands in a placating manner and said, "Yeah… I was just leaving." He retreated several more steps before turning his back to Sam and stalking off.

Sam turned and got his first good, slap-in-face kind of look at her, and thought he was looking at the most beautiful girl in the world.

(- - I Go Blind, by 54-40 - -)

She had long blonde curls, big blue eyes and full pink lips. And she was tall – real tall. Five ten or eleven easy. Sam shook himself slightly when he noticed she was looking at him apprehensively.

"A-a-are you okay?" he managed to stammer out. "Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine," she answered, "thank you."

"Sure… no problem. I… ahhh…" he stammered.

_Smooth_ he thought to himself.

Sticking out his hand to her he said, "I-I'm Sam."

Lightly grasping his hand in hers, she said, "It's nice to meet you Sam." She turned to look nervously at her car. "I have to go. Thanks again." She hurried into the driver's seat and shut the door. Sam was mentally kicking himself at what an ass he made of himself, unable to even make full sentences and staring gape-mouthed like a dumb ape. He gave a clumsy wave to the car as he backed up off the road and onto the sidewalk. He started to walk away when he heard her try to start her car, but the engine wouldn't turn over. It just clicked and whined as she tried a second time to get it going.

He stopped mid-step when he heard her open her car door and tentatively call out, "Hey, Sam?"

Turning he said cautiously, "Yeah?"

"You don't know anything about cars, do you?" she asked as she leaned on the open door and bit her lower lip.

Truthfully Sam didn't know much about cars at all. His dad and brother were the grease monkeys, always tinkering under the hood of the Impala together while Sam had sat on the sidelines reading his books. But he thought he had garnered enough information over his twenty-one years that he knew what the problem was. It had rained hard a couple of hours ago, and although the streets were dry now and the sun was shining brightly, he had a suspicion that the wires of her starter were wet.

"I can give it a look," he shrugged.

Walking back to her car, he stood at the hood and waited for her to open it. He heard the latch pop and he lifted the faded blue sheet of metal into the air. He noticed her standing near him out of the corner of his eye, but didn't turn his gaze from what he was doing in case he started stuttering again. Pulling out all the wires and wiping them off on a napkin she retrieved from her glove box, he also pulled out the spark plugs and wiped them too. Replacing the plugs and reconnecting the wires, he gave a final push to all the parts to make sure that he had a sound connection.

Glancing up he saw her standing there, a knuckle in her mouth as she watched him. "You can aahh…" he stammered.

_Damn it!_

"Try to start it now," he finished in a low voice as he looked away from her. It was easier to speak if he wasn't looking directly at her.

"Okay," she replied softly. Walking to the still open driver's door, she leaned in and turned the key. The engine gave one more defiant wheeze before growling to life. Sam slammed the hood shut and was caught stun-faced by the blonde's reemergence from the other side of the now vanished metal.

_What was wrong with him?_

She was looking at him apprehensively again, as if she thought he may be a threat to her as well. It probably wasn't working in his favor the fact that he couldn't speak straight, or that he kept staring at her.

"Well… thanks again Sam," she said gently, holding out her hand. He took it and tried to make a better impression.

"No problem, I hope the rest of your day goes better," he managed to say levelly.

"I hope so too. Goodbye Sam, you've been very kind." She got into her car and shut the door. Giving a small wave, she pulled out of the parking spot and drove off.

Sam stood on the sidewalk for a moment watching her car retreat down the road. Sighing, he turned to head back for his dorm, depressed that she didn't even tell him her name. Sam wished, not for the first time, that he could channel his brother's mojo when it came to women. That he could be as smooth and confident, instead of feeling so shy and awkward. For a moment he was tempted to pull out his cell and call his brother.

* * *

Sam started to pack up his things at the end of his first boring psychology class. There were more students than he would have guessed for the summer course, easily over one hundred and fifty in the tiered lecture hall. Stuffing his books in his bag and shutting the cover on his laptop he felt a tap on his shoulder. Startled, he turned around and came face to face with the beauty that had been haunting his thoughts for the last couple days.

"Well if it isn't my knight in shining armor," she smiled. "I thought it was you."

"Does that make you the damsel in distress?" he joked, ecstatic that she was smiling at him and impressed that he didn't stutter like a jackass.

"I guess it does," she laughed. She glanced at her feet for a moment before looking back up into Sam's eyes. She was biting her lip again, and Sam wondered if she even knew she was doing it. "Sam," she started, "I wanted to apologize to you about the other day. You were nothing but kind and helpful and I didn't treat you very well."

"It's okay," he said. "You were probably pretty freaked about that guy grabbing you."

"That's not an excuse and it's been bugging me all weekend." She smiled winningly at him, "And now here you are in the same class and I'd really like the chance to make it up to you. Can I buy you a coffee?"

"Depends."

She raised an eyebrow, "Depends on what?"

"If I go out for coffee with you, will you tell me your name?"

She smiled at him and held out her hand, "I'm Jessica."

_Jessica._

* * *

Sam couldn't get enough of Jessica. Over coffee he felt the urgent need to learn everything about her. He learned that she was on her way to becoming a teacher; that she was from Palo Alto and lived at home with her parents and her elderly border collie, Emma. She had an older sister that was a nurse, just like her mom, and she was an avid reader. He also learned that she loved to smile and laugh and did both frequently. It was also getting easier for him to talk to her now, instead of him stumbling through sentences.

They spent nearly two hours at the coffee shop, and to Sam, it was a perfect afternoon. He walked her back to her car, joyful at the warm presence and easy companionship he found with Jessica. She smiled brightly at him before shutting her door and driving off, calling out, "I'll see you in class!"

Sam hadn't felt this good in a long time and he couldn't rid himself of the giant smile that was plastered on his face. Over the next couple of days, he thought about her constantly, and was looking forward to his next psychology class when he could see her again.

At the start of the next class, Sam arrived and scanned the room for Jessica's beautiful face. He spotted her waving several rows from the back as she gestured for him to come join her. Patting the empty seat next to her, Sam sat down and she introduced him to the pair that was sitting on the other side of her.

"Sam, this is Kelly and Jason, they are going to be going into teaching with me after next year." Jessica said as she gestured to each in turn. Kelly had short spiky dark hair and square dark plastic glasses. Even though Sam didn't want to be judgmental, the entire look of her screamed that she was batting for the other team. Jason was dark haired as well, in well cut clothes and Sam could tell that he came from money.

"Nice to meet you Sam," said Kelly as she held out her hand for him to shake. "Jess tells us that you're planning on becoming a Lawyer."

"Yeah, I'm planning on doing this psychology class over the summer so that I can take the criminal psychology in the fall."

"That's very admirable," Jason said in a thick British accent as he too held out a hand.

"Sam," Jessica started, "…we were thinking of starting a study group, and I was wondering if you'd want to join us."

"Yeah," Sam answered, "…that sounds great." Frankly, he was glad for any excuse to spend time with her and would have joined a knitting club if it meant an extra hour with her.

* * *

Mid June, 2004

Sam and Jessica were leaving their psychology class late Thursday morning. Jessica was cradling her books to her chest as they walked along the corridor towards the exit and was talking animatedly about the lecture they had just heard. Pausing outside her car she looked up at Sam and asked, "What are you doing tomorrow night Sam?"

Taken aback slightly by the question Sam answered, "I have to work tomorrow night."

Furrowing her brow slightly, "But that's not until late, right?"

"I start at Midnight and work until eight the following morning. Why? What's up?"

"Well there's this thing we do on Fridays, it's kind of a Locals thing we've done for years. We meet at a cove outside of town, there's a beach football game and then we have a big bonfire and people bring their guitars and it's a lot of fun. I was hoping you wanted to go and I could have you back in time to make it to work if you don't start until twelve."

Sam's mouth went dry suddenly and his tongue felt thick and stupid in his mouth. She wanted to do something with him that wasn't school related and Sam was thrilled at the chance to spend more time with her. "That sounds awesome Jess. Sounds like a lot of fun."

She smiled brightly at him. "Super. I'll pick you up outside your dorm at six-thirty, okay?"

"Sure, that sounds great," he said as she climbed into her car, and smiled at him again as she turned the key and put the old car into gear. He watched her pull away, tossing him a wave and said to himself, _that sounds spectacular_.

* * *

Sam was standing on the front steps of his dorm waiting for Jessica to show up. He was dressed in jeans and sneakers and although he had been living in California for the last two years, he just couldn't bring himself to wear board-shorts and sandals. A ghost of Dean was snickering in his ear at the very image of it.

Seeing Jessica's car come around the corner, he smiled to himself, feeling nervous and excited all at the same time. He tried to remind himself that this wasn't a date because it was a group gathering, but Sam's spirits were buoyed by the fact that Jess had asked him to come. He picked up his book-bag from its place at his feet. In it was his uniform as Jessica was going to be dropping him off directly at work afterwards. Starting down the steps as she pulled to the curb, he stopped short as the passenger door opened and a raven haired beauty got out. She had long dark cascading hair, caramel skin and the kind of body that women paid top dollar for. She was movie star beautiful in her white tank top and little shorts that showed off the color of her skin and impossible length of her legs. Oversized sunglasses perched on the top of her head completed the look along with a dazzling white smile.

Jessica got out of the car, leaned against the door frame and said, "Sam, this is my friend Amber."

Sam remembered Jess mentioning Amber before. They had been friends since Amber and her family moved to Palo Alto from Mexico when she was nine. Amber worked as a waitress in her family's restaurant, and did a lot of work in different community theaters, but dreamed of being a movie star. And Sam had to admit that with looks like Amber's, Hollywood would be knocking on her door any day.

Inwardly proud of himself for not standing there with his mouth hanging open like an idiot, Sam went around to the side of the car and nodded at Amber, saying "Hi. Jess has told me a lot about you."

"And all of its true," she winked at him, her accent thick and sexy.

She opened the backdoor of the car and started to get in the backseat when Sam said, "Wait, I don't want to steal your seat, I'll sit in the back."

Amber smiled at him, looking him slowly up and down in a way that made his ears warm and said, "Honey – big as you are – you'd never fit in this back seat... Pity though."

Sam felt his face heat as Jessica said crossly, "Amber!"

"What?" She asked innocently. Licking her lips and looking Sam over again she said, "Just stating an anatomically correct fact."

Sam felt his face get warmer as Jessica rested her elbows on the roof of the car and buried her face in her hands. "Sam, I'm going to apologize for Amber." She mumbled into her hands before looking up at him. "She's missing that all important filter most people have in between their brains and their mouths that keeps them from saying whatever crosses their minds." Jessica shot her friend a withering glare but Amber only smiled sweetly in return.

"Life's too short to beat around the bush Chika," she replied to Jessica. Smiling at her best friend she added, "And Sam's kinda hot."

"Amber!"

Sam was certain that his face turned bright red.

"He's got a nice ass too."

Sam coughed uncomfortably, taken completely by surprise and not knowing what to do.

"I swear you are the world's worst best friend!" Jessica accused her.

"Don't go saying that. Remember when we were twelve and you got that awful spiral perm? I pushed Ashley Quinn down when she called you a puffed up show poodle."

"Yeah, well, I made Jeremy Stone cry when he lied and told everyone that he kissed you behind the gymnasium later that year, so we're even on that one."

Amber laughed at her, "Okay – draw. Come on, let's get going. You said that Dave might be bringing his new partner Mark with him tonight, and I'm looking forward to getting to know Sam a little better." She winked at him again before lowering herself into the back seat and Sam was struck by the idea of how much Dean would like the lovely Amber Juarez.

* * *

Arriving at a gravel parking lot at the end of a gravel road twenty minutes later, the three of them got out of the car. Jess opened the trunk and handed a soft-sided cooler to him, while grabbing a blanket to carry herself. There were half a dozen cars in the lot, and about twice that many people on the beach already. The surf was pounding on the white sand as several guys were tossing a football around further up the beach. The three walked onto the sand and Jessica spread the blanket out on the ground. Opening the cooler, Jess tossed a can of soda to Sam, who caught it deftly.

"Nice reflexes," Jess commented, taking a can of soda for herself.

"Umm, thanks," he replied. You needed good reflexes when you were being attacked by poltergeists and your life depended on it.

"Hey Jess, look!" Amber pointed to the parking lot where a grey sedan pulled in next to Jessica's car and three people were getting out. "Oh look!" She said excitedly, "They _did_ bring Mark with them." Fluffing up her hair and shamelessly adjusting her bra, she asked, "How do I look?"

Jessica sighed and closed her eyes. "Gorgeous," she answered tiredly.

"Thanks Chika," Amber hugged her best friend and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Wish me luck!" she called over her shoulder as she strolled her way to the threesome approaching them.

"Wish Mark luck more like it," Jessica muttered under her breath. "She's gonna eat him alive."

"She is a bit of a character," Sam laughed. "I can't help but think how much my brother would like to meet her. They're two of a kind."

"So you have a brother then?" Jess asked quickly, "You haven't mentioned him." It was almost as if she'd pounced on the information he'd tossed her way.

"Yeah," Sam answered quickly, regretting opening his mouth so easily. "An older brother, but he travels a lot for work and is based out of North Carolina so we don't see each other much." Wanting to change the subject in a hurry, he asked, "So who is that Amber's so keen to talk to?" Sam nodded in the direction of the parking lot. Amber was flirting with one of the guys from the sedan while a guy and a blond girl were heading towards him and Jessica.

"That's my sister Nina and her boyfriend Dave." Jess replied.

"She's a nurse right?"

"Yeah, and Dave's a paramedic. Mark is Dave's new partner and Amber is head over heels for him."

"Lucky Mark."

"Like I said, she'll eat him alive. When it comes to guys, Amber's a shark in a kiddie pool. There's a long line of broken hearts in her wake."

"Again… maybe she should meet Dean."

Jessica cast him a smile as Nina and Dave met up with them. Up close, Sam was shocked at how much Nina and Jessica looked alike. He could have mistaken them for twins if he didn't know there were two years between them.

"Nina, Dave," Jess began, "…this is my new friend Sam."

"Nice to meet you Sam," Nina nodded at him, smiling an identical smile to Jessica's while throwing her arm over her sister's shoulders.

"Sam," Dave extended his hand and Sam shook it. Sam knew instinctually he would like Dave. He had the sort of calm confidence needed in his field of work, combined with an easy smile and a friendly demeanor. Eerily, he reminded him a lot of Pastor Jim, and Sam felt a pang in his gut at the loss of Elsie.

"Hey Winchester!" someone shouted from down the beach. Sam turned and was rewarded with a football sailing towards him and knocking him in the chest. He caught it and let out an _oomph_ as all the air in his lungs was pushed out.

Looking for who was responsible for knocking the wind out of him, Sam saw a guy jogging over to him.

"Ricky?" he asked incredulously, recognizing the guy from his dorm. Sam looked at Jessica, "I didn't know Ricky was a local, he lives in my dorm."

"He's not local. He's a bouncer at the same bar as our friend Carlos, and he comes here with him." She indicated a stocky Mexican guy further along the sand. "Carlos and Amber are cousins and have had a love/hate relationship since we were kids."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Nina jumped in. "They love to hate each other. I swear – those two fight like an old married couple."

Sam laughed as Ricky came up to stand next to Sam. "Hey Sam," Ricky greeted, "Jessica," he nodded to her, "is Amber here?"

"Over there," Jess indicated with a flick of her head.

"Great," he muttered. "I swear Carlos and her should just get married and make their misery official."

"You're such a pessimist Rick," Dave interrupted. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you aren't allowed to marry your cousin in this state."

"Pessimist? This coming from a guy who's dating an angel," Ricky shook his head. "How you doing tonight anyway, Nina?"

"Good. What's got Carlos' shorts in a twist this week?" she asked, non-plussed at the compliment.

"I don't know. Amber was at the bar a couple of nights ago and the two of them started arguing about something or other. I can't follow once they start in on the high-speed angry-Spanish." He stopped for a breath before continuing on. "So are you playing tonight Sam? You look fast on your feet and we could use you. Moose over there has beaten our team the last four weeks in a row and me and Carlos can't let him make it five, we'd never live it down."

"I don't know," Sam said, unsure. They were being really nice to him but he felt like such an outsider. Everyone here had been friends for ages and he was the new kid on the block.

"Come on Sam," Dave smiled, smacking him lightly in the chest as he walked past him. "Moose needs to be taken down a few pegs and we're the guys to do it."

"You guys call that tall skinny guy Moose?" Sam asked.

"He describes himself as wiry," Ricky laughed. "And we call him '_Moose_' because he's from Moosejaw, Saskatchewan. His real name is Eric."

"Go on and play Sam," Jessica encouraged him, smiling her wide easy smile.

Sam started to walk off with the guys but could have sworn he saw Nina nudge Jessica out of the corner of his eye, and her giggle was swallowed up by the breeze blowing in off the ocean.

* * *

The game had been fun. They had beaten Moose's team, and Sam even scored a touchdown himself. He felt his face redden at his own personal cheering section on the sidelines, consisting of Jessica, Nina and Amber. The sun was setting now, and a couple of the guys were working on the bonfire. Sam's experience with bonfires was to add more gasoline to them, but he knew that was a suggestion that would garner a couple of raised eyebrows, so he kept his mouth shut. Besides, all of the bonfires he'd ever been to also included a corpse and salt.

Jessica patted the blanket next to her, inviting him to sit with her while the flames grew.

There were a couple guitars being tuned, two of them held by Nina and Dave – Jessica said that they sounded wonderful together. Finally, the fire was burning brightly, marshmellows and bags of Oreos were being passed around and the playing started. It was a total beach movie scene, and as hokey as Dean would think it was, Sam was enjoying himself. This was _normal_, this is what people did for fun. This wasn't sneaking through a haunted house or lurking in the bushes waiting for some awful creature to come out into the open.

And Jess was right, Nina and Dave did sound great together. The two of then went through songs by CCR, The Eagles, Bob Seger, Tom Petty, pretty much anything that was easy to sing along to and that everyone knew the words. Jessica sang along too, in her slightly off key tone that Sam barely noticed because he was trying not to stare at her lips. She handed him another can of soda between songs and took another one herself, leaning back on her elbows and singing along. Smiling to himself, he settled back and enjoyed the atmosphere of the night around him, dreading when he knew he'd have to go to work because he didn't want to have to leave her side and go back to reality.

* * *

A/N: Nobody laugh at the cheesiness of the beach scene. I grew up on the coast, and when you're too young to drink at the bars, you hang on the beach and drink, and hope your friends like you enough to make sure you don't pass out below the high tide line.

P.S. You guys are lucky I had a lot of this written beforehand and just had to fill in the blank spots. I've been watching way too much of the Olympics this week and my writing time was shot. Go Canada Go!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 5

Early September, 2004

The summer flew by faster than Sam could have thought possible. It had been weeks of classes, Jessica, work, studying, Jessica, bonfires and more Jessica. He found himself longing for the weekends when the two of them would get together with the others, having fun and joking around. Sam loved every moment he spent with her, even though most of it was spent in the company of others. Only on a few occasions did they venture out on their own for more than a coffee and Sam normally felt out of his depth. He was sure Jessica ignored it, she had to know how self-conscious he was, but she handled his awkwardness with a grace that Sam had come to associate with her. Grace was one of the many attributes that came to mind when he thought of her.

School was starting up the following day. The dorm was alive with all the bodies returning from the summer break, and all the new students looking around with excited eyes. Sam had just made it through a gauntlet of people in the front lobby, over-laden with boxes and suitcases. He was whistling happily as he walked down the hall towards his room. Jessica had just dropped him off and his mood was always light when in her company. Slipping the key into the lock, he turned it and instantly came aware when there was no resistance in the lock. Years of training came readily to the forefront, despite his hiatus from hunting. Throwing the door open, Sam stopped short when the startled face of a young black man jumped and turned from the empty dresser on the near side of the room.

Grabbing his chest, the black man breathed, "Give a brother a heart attack why don't-cha."

"Sorry," Sam replied, confused. "Um… who are you?"

"Oh sorry man," he said while stepping forward and extending his hand, "I'm Luis. Luis Johnson."

Sam shook his hand tentatively. "Hi. What are you doing in here?"

"Oh, well," he said while turning away and going back to unpacking his suitcase. "I'm your new roommate."

"I think there may have been a mistake. They don't put Freshmen in with Juniors."

"That paper I got said room 308, and the sign on the door said room 308, and I'm not a Freshman."

"Really? I don't remember seeing you around before."

"That's because I was in Cal-U before. I've been trying to get into Stanford since high school and I finally made it _in_." Luis had the same shining look in his eyes as the kids in the lobby, and Sam remembered how excited he felt the first time he got here, like his life was finally about to start.

Sam felt his fortress of solitude slipping away. There was no way that Luis was going to drop-out like Sam's former roommate did. It looked like he was going to be stuck with a roomie and Sam only hoped that Luis wasn't some crazy frat-boy type.

"So you got a name man, or do I just call you Sasquatch?" The shorter man looked up at him.

"Name's Sam, and there's no such thing as a sasquatch."

"Says who? Scientists? Cause there's a lot of freaky shit out there."

"There's no freaky shit. There can be an explanation for everything if you look hard enough." Sam felt his pulse quicken. What did Luis know? Was it possible he knew about the supernatural?

Luis raised an eyebrow at him, "Okay Mr. Explanation. Can you tell me how New Jersey made it into the NBA finals last year?"

Sam chuckled to himself, starting to feel immensely relieved.

"That's right," Luis smiled, "…There's some freaky shit out there."

* * *

It was the Saturday night after the first week of school. Jessica had invited him to join the rest of the gang at Cocoa's – a local bar that always had live music. Jess and her friends loved the place, and had taken Sam there before. Jess even invited Luis.

It was hard not to like Luis. Besides having a sharp sense of humor and a dry wit, Luis was just a nice guy. He had told Sam that first night that he was gay, but that 'Vanilla ain't my flavor – so don't be freaked.' It was awkward for about two minutes after that, until Luis plugged in a TV he brought with him and switched on a ball game. He was a Boston fan of all things, claiming that the Red Sox were gonna hit it big soon – he could feel it. Sam was more disturbed over the team choice than the sexual one.

_Red Sox? Really?_ Dean and his father were both Yankees fans, and detested the Red Sox on principle alone. Sam would root for the Red Sox to get on his father's nerves while growing up, not for any great love of the team itself.

Sam had never heard of the band they were going to see, but Jessica was excited about them, claiming that several of her favorite songs were by the guy. There was a big group of them going and he'd admit that he liked Jess' friends. Most of them were really nice to him and treated him like they'd known him for years. But he felt like an awkward outsider and it was hard to field questions when people didn't take a hint when he tried changing subjects. Where you from, where's your family at, what do your parents do? It was the same questions over and over again and he hated that part Jessica's social scene. Her friends were nice, they just asked too many questions. Luckily Jess was normally there to divert the conversation back to something or someone else. She seemed to have a sixth sense about his evasiveness, and didn't ask any questions herself. But if he slipped, like he did that first night on the beach and mentioned Dean, well, then she was all over him – like she was tucking little bits of information away for later. He shook his head. There was no way that Jessica cared that much about him. They'd never even touched other than when he shook her hand that very first day. She was just looking to add him to her circle of friends and he should stop paying so much attention to her because he didn't stand a chance.

(- - Paralyzer, by Finger Eleven - -) _playing on speakers_.

He was walking into the bar, showing up later than what she'd told him because he didn't want to get there ahead of her and have to make awkward small talk with anyone. The club was pretty full, but he spotted the golden haired beauty at a cluster of tables on a raised dais off to the left. Stopping at the bar and ordering a pitcher, he made his way to the tables and the girl who haunted his every thought regardless of him telling himself he couldn't have her.

She looked beautiful.

Wearing a red dress that was cut perfectly for her figure and her height, her hair pulled up with the soft ringlets hanging down and framing her face, and barely any make up – she was a vision and Sam had to consciously remind himself not to stare.

Her face brightened as she caught sight of him. "Hey Sam!" she called enthusiastically. She sounded like she'd already had a couple of drinks, and Sam knew that she had a low tolerance for alcohol. He'd never seen her drink more than two anyway so he a little taken aback by the shine in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks.

"Hey Jess. Guys." He returned the greeting, nodding at the assembled group and taking a seat next to Amber as Jess didn't seem to be sitting down, keyed up and glowing like she was.

"Sam," Jess came over and crouched next to his chair so she could speak in his ear over the loud music, "Where's Luis?" He tried not to react to the warm breath on his ear, and he tried not to look down her dress – that would be piggish of him – but she was right there and the view was there… No.

"He'll be here soon," he replied, proud of himself that he didn't look. "He had to finish up some stuff at the library and then he'll be over."

"I hope he's not too late… he'll miss the start and this guy's _awesome_." She was gushing and her beautiful smile was broader than usual and Sam wondered how many she'd already had. He shook his head and smiled as she flitted over to talk to her friend Rebecca and her brother Zach.

"How many did she have?" he asked Amber, amusement entering his voice as he saw Jess enthusiastically hugging Rebecca.

"Enough to put her in a _really_ good mood," Amber smirked and took a sip from her drink. It was blue with a chunk of pineapple floating inside and a paper umbrella lodged on the rim of the glass. "Do me a favor and help me keep an eye on her, alright?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed, watching as Jess dragged Rebecca towards the ladies room by the hand. "No problem." And for some reason Amber found that really amusing. "What's so funny?" he asked, the corners of his mouth turning up as the Mexican beauty tossed her hair over her shoulder and laughed out-right.

"Nothing Sam. I just like having someone else helping me watch out for Chika's back." Her accent was even heavier when she tried to talk though her mirth.

"I haven't seen her that… _tipsy_… before," because he honestly couldn't think of another word for her at the moment.

"Doesn't happen very often," Amber grinned again. "Just be glad I love her enough to not drink myself silly on the same nights she does."

"Does she get that bad?" Sam craned his neck to see if she was coming out of the restroom yet, suddenly worried that she might be ill.

"She'll stop drinking before she gets too bad. She's just a friendly drunk – hugs everybody."

Well, that didn't sound so bad. He didn't get a hug though – and he was mad at himself that he was miffed about something silly like that. She was inebriated – he shouldn't be looking to capitalize on that.

"So this band is good are they? I've never heard of them." He took a swig of the cold beer, glancing around the bar and taking in the exits and groups of people and if anyone was looking in his direction. Old habits die hard.

"They're great. You're in for a treat," she smiled at him and he wondered why he found it so easy to talk to Amber. As Jessica's oldest and best friend, Sam enjoyed her most, and wondered why her stellar looks didn't render him a mute or stuttering moron like they normally would have.

Just then, Luis' dark face came threading its way through the crowd towards their cluster of tables. "Hey man," he greeted, and then his eyes fell on Amber and he drew short. "Hellooo…" he drawled.

"Luis," Sam said, trying not to laugh at his friend's popping eyes, "this is Amber – Jess' friend."

"It is _lovely_ to meet you Amber." Luis held out a hand and she took it delicately. "And it is a _pleasure_ to make the acquaintance of someone so beautiful." He held onto her hand a second longer than necessary and Amber giggled a little, clearly unsure of Luis' intentions as she was already aware of his preferences.

"It's nice to meet you too Luis," she smiled genuinely at him as she withdrew her hand and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I think I should check on Jessica. I'll be right back." She turned and headed for the ladies room, Luis watching her the whole way.

"Whooo!!" He exclaimed as he dropped into Amber's vacant seat and started fanning himself. "_Damn!!_"

"What was with that?" Sam laughed at his roommate who was rubber-necking in an effort to see if he could still see Amber. "I thought you were playing for the other team?"

"I am," he smirked, pulling his shirt in and out to fan himself some more. "But for that girl? I'd switch _back!_" he grinned wolfishly at him as he caught the attention of a passing waitress and signaled for another of whatever it was that Amber was drinking.

They chatted easily until the girls came back a few minutes later. Luis jumped up and pulled the chair out for Amber. Sam stood as well, and offered his seat to Jessica. "Hey Jess, why don't you sit down."

She giggled at him, pushing on his shoulder to try and make him sit back down. "Can't. Too wired." She looked off towards the bar and said, "I think I need another drink." Her words came out in that purposeful, determined way drunks had.

He touched her elbow, "You sit. I'll get you a drink." He'd never seen her like this before and would admit that he was enjoying himself at her expense. She was an amusing drunk.

"Nope. That's okay – I got it." She turned in place and started to head for the bar when her ankle rolled on her heels, and she started to fall. Sam caught her easily. Holding her elbows, he righted her.

"Nice catch," she grinned. "Good reflexes." Glancing over to Amber who was laughing at the table top, "Didn't I tell you he had good reflexes?" she gave his bicep a healthy squeeze, "and big arms." Sam felt his face warm as Amber's shoulders were shaking from trying to hold the laughter in. "I'll be back," Jess sing-songed, heading for the bar on less than steady feet.

"Well she's right," Amber smirked, her eyes dancing, "You do have big arms." She winked at him and Sam felt his face warm again before Luis saved him by dropping into Sam's vacant seat and sparking a conversation with Amber just as the waitress came back with her blue concoction.

He grabbed his glass from the table and wandered back to where Rebecca and her brother Zach were sitting, talking to them about a paper that was due the following week. Rebecca and Zach were fraternal twins from St. Louis, were both getting business degrees and were both geniuses. He made sure to keep an eye on Jessica as he spoke with the twins. He couldn't help himself anyway – he'd be watching out for her if Amber asked him to or not.

He went back to his table, grabbing an empty chair and swinging it around to squeeze it in next to Luis – the place was getting packed in a hurry.

"The band's supposed to be on soon," Sam offered, pouring himself some more beer from his pitcher, eyeing the lower level and noticing the glass in front of Luis.

"I got the next one Man," Luis tipped the glass in his direction and grinned.

Amber wandered back over, declining the chair that Luis jumped out of. It was funny to see him ogle a girl, but granted it was Amber – who was turning heads from all over the bar – not just Luis'.

Just then, the bar exploded in cheers and people were standing and clapping as a light haired man was lead onto the stage. Jess materialized at his side, cheering and clapping enthusiastically. Sam took his gaze away from the bouncing beauty long enough to realize that the guy on stage was blind. He sat in a chair in the front center of the stage, and the guy who led him out adjusted the mike a little before darting to the side of the stage.

"How y'all doin' tonight?" the blind guy spoke into the mike and got an answering cheer. "I'm Jeff Healey and it's nice to see y'all here tonight." There was a little nervous laughter at that, and the corners of the guy's mouth turned up slightly. He ran his hands lightly over a guitar that was lying down across his lap. "I know she's in here…" he spoke softly to the guitar as a couple chords shot out of the instrument, and a rising cheer erupted in the bar, "…And she's a _cruel_ little number." The rest of the band kicked in and music filled the club.

(- - Cruel Little Number, by The Jeff Healey Band - -)

Amber squealed, grabbing Jessica's hand and pulling her towards the crammed dance floor. "That's my song Chika!"

"Come on Sam!" Jess grabbed for his hand and Sam instantly went rigid. Was she serious? Him on a dance floor?

"Ahhh, Jess…" he stammered.

"Fine you big chicken," she taunted him, "but don't think you're getting off that easy when 'Angel Eyes' comes on." She pointed a finger at his chest and Amber succeeded in pulling her to the dance floor and the pair joined the throng already there.

Sam sank back down in his chair and swigged his beer. The guy was good, he'd give him that. The place was jumping and the guy's fingers were sailing over the strings in a way that was mesmerizing.

"I got to say," Luis whistled appreciatively and leaned forward on his elbows onto the table, "blind white boy knows how to _play_."

"He sure does," Sam agreed, his gaze drifting to Jessica on the dance floor with Amber and some of the other girls.

Luis caught where his gaze was drifting and said, "Why is it that girls can dance in a group and it's hot, and for guys, it's weird?"

"I don't know man. Double standards are a bitch." Sam could care less. Watching Jessica dancing out on the floor, laughing and smiling and her hair swinging – he could sit here for hours just watching her.

"…catch fire."

That word brought him to attention and he sat up sharply. "What?!" he demanded, whipping around to face a grinning Luis.

"I _said_, that if you stare at her any harder, her clothes will catch fire," he smirked at him over the rim of his glass.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sam immediately went into defensive mode.

"Sure you don't," his eyes were laughing if the rest of him wasn't, "that poor blond girl just can't move without you watching her."

Luis was a good guy – he was just too damn observant. Or Sam was just getting sloppy…

"Luis…"

"You're allowed to like her, Man," the black man rolled his eyes. "Why don't you try doing something about it?"

Sam shook his head, keeping his eyes on the dancers. "No. Jess and I are just friends."

"Whatever Man," Luis slouched back in his chair. "The last person you should take woman advice from is me," he grinned at him over his glass, "but if you feel like taking a walk on the wild side, I know a guy who you're his type." Sam threw a balled up napkin at his roommate and it would have hit him in the face if Luis hadn't batted it easily away.

They sat and watched the show in silence. The band on stage played songs he'd heard before, ones he'd never heard, and some covers that were amazing. He even did a rendition of 'While my Guitar Gently Weeps' that might have been one of the best covers of that song that Sam had ever heard.

Jess and the other girls were having a blast on the dance floor. Luis managed to get Amber to dance with him, and even Zach looked like he'd scored with some dark haired girl Sam didn't recognize. And Sam squashed the resentment that welled up when some dark haired joker in a blue shirt started dancing with Jessica. He had no claim on her, and she could do what she wanted – even if Sam wanted to break dude's face for him.

The crowd on the floor was sardine tight, and Sam missed what happened through the press of bodies, but he saw Jess whirl around and glare at the guy who'd been dancing with her. Suddenly Amber was next to him, running her hand down his arm and smiling at him. They guy looked like he thought he won the lottery with Amber fawning over him when she suddenly wrenched his arm behind his back. The look of shock and pain that crossed dude's face was priceless as the beautiful girl clapped her other hand on his shoulder and walked him towards the bouncers at the door. When they broke away from the crowd, Sam could see the way Amber had the guy's wrist bent backwards, and the asshole was walking on his tip-toes trying to alleviate some of the pain she was causing him. It was a classic move, and Amber executed it perfectly. As soon as the bouncers saw her with him, they ran over and grabbed the guy, shoving him out the door. Amber blew the bouncers a kiss and went back to the dance floor. She glanced up to where Sam was sitting and winked at him. He raised an eyebrow and crooked his finger at her, asking her to come speak to him for a minute.

She threaded her way through the crowd and dropped into the empty chair next to him as Luis had run off somewhere several minutes ago.

"You wanna tell me what that was?" he asked her, nudging a blue drink towards the pretty girl.

She shrugged as she took a long sip through the narrow straw. "He groped her," she said simply.

Sam pushed away from the table and stood up, planning on going outside and finding that sonofabitch and introducing him to the Winchester right hook.

"Sit down Quick-Draw," she rolled her eyes and pulled on his wrist. "He won't be back."

"How do you know?" Sam was fighting to keep his anger in check.

"Because they won't let him," she nodded towards the bouncers at the door. "Most of us Downtown bar and restaurant staff know each other, and we watch out for each other. They'll make sure that jerk doesn't walk back in, and tomorrow if they come in mama's restaurant, they get some free empanadas or something."

_Nice system_.

"And the broken wrist you were gonna give him?"

She actually smiled at that one. "I've been a waitress my whole life, and my daddy and cousin are the meanest bouncers in town. Daddy made sure his daughters weren't helpless." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and smirked evilly. "He's lucky I didn't do the primary defense move Daddy taught us."

Sam leaned back to look under the table at the shoes she was wearing. Black spike heels with pointy toes. _Ouch_.

"I think I owe you a drink," Sam smirked.

"Just a coke. No more booze for me tonight." She pushed away from the table and tossed a smile over her shoulder at him, heading back to the dance floor.

* * *

The night was getting late and the band was still playing on. Jess hadn't had any more to drink in awhile, but she was still glowing from what she'd already had. She was up at the tables, taking a long drink of Amber's coke when the music took a slower turn.

(- - Lost in Your Eyes, by The Jeff Healy Band - -)

"Ohh, come on Sam," she grabbed his hand with her small, soft, warm one and tugged.

"Jess…" he tried to keep the panic out of his voice. The last thing he wanted was to make an ass of himself out there.

"I'm not taking 'no' for an answer." The stern look on her face was made more comical by the slightly unfocused look in her eyes.

"But Jess, I don't dance."

She rolled her eyes. "It's a slow song, Chicken. All you have to do is turn in slow circles." She tugged on his hand again, "Now come on." And Sam was helpless in the power of that soft warm hand and followed her out on the floor full of tightly held couples.

"There now, is that so bad?" she quirked an eyebrow at him as they turned slowly to the music, her hands around his neck and his on the delicious curve of her hips.

He could feel the heat radiating out of her, traveling up his arms and filling his chest with longing. What was he doing out here with her anyway? He wasn't stupid – he could never have her – she deserved way better than him.

"I love this song," she tipped her head back, showcasing the long lines of her neck and the plunge in the front of her dress. "It's just so _pretty_."

_The song ain't the only thing that's pretty around here_, he thought.

She wobbled slightly and he tightened his grip on her. "It's a really nice song Jess. Thanks for inviting me along."

"You're always invited, Sam," she rolled her eyes at him again, causing her to wobble again. She started singing along with the lyrics, her normally off key voice made more noticeable by the amount of liquor in her system. He tried to tell himself to be realistic – to appreciate things for what they were. Two friends sharing a dance. That's it. That's all he could have with her. And while he continued to tell himself that, he kept getting lost in the smell of her shampoo, and the way her fingers felt on the back of his neck, and the way the bar's lighting got reflected off her lip gloss.

The song ended and Sam made to pull away, but Jess kept her hands locked around his neck. "Oh no you don't," she laughed. "This is 'Angel Eyes' and I called it at the start of the night. You're staying put."

"You called it?" Sam laughed. "What are you? Twelve?"

"Just stay put," she laughed at him. "'kay?"

Hesitantly, he let his hands slip back around her hips, feeling the slight muscle contractions under his palms as she swayed to the music. She rested her forehead against his collar bone and murmured, "I think this may be my favorite song." And Sam was running a mantra in his head of, '_she's drunk, don't you dare. She's drunk, don't you dare…_'

Jess was singing softly along with the lyrics again and Sam found himself listening more closely and running an inner dialogue to distract himself of Jessica pressed up to him and her shampoo filling his nose and making him want to hold her tighter still.

"_Well I'm the guy who never learned to dance,"_

_Well at least I'm not the only one…_

"_Never even got one second glance,"_

_Did you have an older brother like mine?_

"_Across a crowded room was close enough,"_

_You can't have her Sam. Stop daydreaming_.

"_I could look but I could never touch_._"_

_Buddy - you don't know the half of it. This girl should be off limits._

It was a verse or two later that Sam realized that Jess wasn't singing along anymore, and her feet had stopped their slow shuffle and she was no longer swaying to the pretty music.

"Jess?" he pulled back a bit to try to look into her face as it was still resting on his collar bone. Her face was slack and her eyes were closed and damn it all to hell, she'd passed out.

"Jess?" he tried again, giving her a gentle shake. She roused slightly, and only nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. The intimate contact sent a jolt down his spine and he had to remind himself of his mantra. '_She's drunk, don't you dare. She's drunk, don't you dare…_'

He wrapped an arm around her waist and half carried her back to the tables on the raised dais. Settling her gently into a chair, her head rolled on her neck and one normally graceful arm hung slack over the edge of the chair. Amber was there in a heartbeat.

"Girl's got no stamina," she said flatly, crouching next to her friend and cupping her cheek with her palm. "Jess? Chika?" Jess roused a little. "Sweetie, open your eyes."

"Sam?" Jess asked, her voice slurred and unsure.

"Your knight in shining armor is right here Chika."

"Sorry I fell asleep," she murmured drunkenly, her eyes still closed.

"It's okay Jess, you owe me one," he touched her shoulder, praying that she wasn't about to get sick all over the place.

"Damn straight," she mumbled into her own shoulder.

"Come on Jess, let's get you out of here." Amber pulled on her arm but Jess was in no condition to move on her own.

"I got her," Sam offered, leaning in to help the blond to her feet, and ended up half carrying her again. "You get her coat."

"Wait for us outside," Amber instructed, "I've got to get Rebecca – we're staying at her apartment tonight."

Sam dragged Jessica out the door, past the bouncers giving him a thumbs up at the beauty slumped against him. Sam rolled his eyes at them.

_Jerks_.

The cooler air outside the club seemed to help rejuvenate her a little, as she stirred before slumping against his chest again. Amber and Rebecca came out, and Amber strode right out into the street and hailed a cab.

"Where's Zach?" Sam asked her, adjusting Jess in his grip so that he could put her in the back of the cab.

"Hooking up with some chick in there. He'll come home tomorrow sometime."

"Will you guys be able to get her inside or do you want some help?" Sam had Jess cradled in his arms as he lowered her into the backseat.

"You don't mind?" Rebecca looked at him hopefully, clearly not relishing in the idea of dragging her friend down the corridors in her building.

"Its fine – your place is only a couple blocks from my dorm." Sam adjusted Jess in the seat, actually straightening the skirt of her dress so that it didn't ride up her thigh. Sam shot a glare at the cabbie when he caught him staring at her.

_Yeah, definitely not letting them ride in this cab with this perv alone_.

"Did either of you see Luis in there?" He asked, not wanting to strand the guy but not knowing what he was gonna do about it.

"He found some… _company,_" Rebecca answered him.

_Okay… you're on your own dude_. Cuz Sam was fine with Luis being gay, he just didn't want to witness anything '_company_' related.

Sam got in the front with the driver as the girls climbed in on either side of a passed out Jessica. The diver put the car in gear when Rebecca leaned forward and gave him her address.

A few minutes later, they were pulling up to the curb in front of Rebecca and Zach's apartment building, Amber peeling a couple bills out of her purse for the cabbie and Sam pulling Jess out of the backseat and carrying her bridal style to the front door. The girls held doors open as they entered the place, then the stairway doors, then the doors to the corridors, and Sam wondered who in the hell thought all these doors were a good design for a building housing mostly university students.

Rebecca jiggled a key in a knob, entering the apartment and flipping on lights. "Put her in Zach's room. He won't be using it tonight."

Amber led the way down the short hallway, flipping on a bedside lamp and standing back so that Sam could gently lay Jess on the bed. Straightening her skirt again, he lightly gripped her ankle and slipped her heels off her feet before pulling a blanket up over her.

"Chivalrous and a gentleman," Amber whispered, "do you get any better?"

"You forgot good looking," Sam joked back distractedly, making sure that Jess looked like she was comfortable.

"Oh Sugar," her dark eyes were dancing in the low light, "trust me, I didn't forget." Sam felt his face redden and hurriedly left the room, Amber hot on his heels.

He said good night to the girls, asking them to call him in the morning to let him know she was okay. Outside in the cool night air, while trying to forget how much he liked holding Jessica so tightly to him, while trying to forget the way her breath felt on his ear, or how right her weight had felt in his arms, he saw a figure walking ahead of him. And Sam recognized the blue shirt he was wearing and the dark hair and the build of the guy who had groped Jessica at the bar.

Sam sent a quick prayer of thanks skyward, because although he wasn't a religious man, apparently someone somewhere liked him.

"Hey buddy," Sam called out and the figure ahead of him turned.

_Yup, that's him_.

"Wait up a sec!"

* * *

"Sam?" Jess' voice was soft and decidedly unhealthy. The trademark of a morning after a night of too much fun.

"Hey Jess," Sam smiled, glad that she'd called him. He admired his split and bruised knuckles as he tucked his cell between his shoulder and ear. Asshole had it coming. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a Mac truck," she groaned.

"Are you home or still at Rebecca's?"

"Becca's. I can't move," she groaned again and her voice was muffled like she was talking through her pillow.

"Do you need anything?" He reached into his book bag looking for a pen. Not finding one, he grabbed one off Luis' desk. His roommate never came home last night and Sam could only assume that the '_company_' that Rebecca mentioned was something that he didn't want to dwell on.

"No. Thanks… but water is a little too rich for me right now."

"Ouch. That bad huh?"

"Yeah... Sam?" Her raspy voice was hesitant suddenly.

"What is it Jess?"

"I think I need to apologize," she admitted.

"Apologize? For what?"

"Amber said that I passed out while dancing with you." Embarrassment was clear in her voice.

"Don't worry about it," he laughed. "You owe me one, remember?"

"I don't remember much."

"You had fun. That's all that counts."

She snorted in laughter and then gave a groan of pain. "I think it will be awhile before I have this much fun again."

"Yeah… That's probably for the best." Sam looked at his knuckles again and wondered if the guy he beat up was in any of his classes and would recognize him. Then he shrugged because he really didn't care. Asshole had it coming and it had felt _good_ to teach that jerk a lesson.

* * *

A/N: First, I would like to say that absolutely no disrespect was intended in using Jeff Healey in this chapter _at all_. I have nothing but admiration (and a little hero worship) for the man who rose above all the trials in his life. For those who may be unfamiliar with the guitar hero, Jeff lost his sight to cancer as a baby. Not letting that stop him, he started playing guitar at the age of three with the unique style of laying the instrument across his lap (and I think he strung it backwards too but I'm not 100% on that). Building an impressive repertoire of songs and artists that played with him (there is an awesome video on YouTube of Jeff and Stevie Ray Vaughn playing together that brought a huge smile to my face at the thought of all that awesome-ness on the same stage together) Talented and inspirational, Jeff had a devoted following of fans and admirers of his work. Sadly, Jeff Healy lost his fight with cancer on March 2nd, 2008. The world lost a shining light when Jeff passed away, and he'll be sorely missed. Truly, the good die young. Anyone who is unfamiliar with his music should really check it out, as it is in his music that Jeff Healey lives on – and if I've inspired anyone to add some Healey tunes to their play-list, that makes me happy.

A/N 2: Congrats to Jared Padalecki and Gen Cortese on their wedding last weekend. *Sigh* that's another one gone girls. Looks like we'll all have to make a concentrated effort at snagging Jensen before he's off limits too. I'm not delusional... just very, very optimistic ;D


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

A/N: Sorry guys… too much fluff and it's making me nauseous, I gotta throw some hurt around *grins*

Chapter 6

Late September, 2004

It was Thursday night and the Stanford library was about to close. The automated voice had just come on over the speaker system – _The library will be closing in ten minutes. Please return all materials or proceed to the front desk for check-out. Thank-you._

Sam and Jess, along with Kelly, Rebecca, Jason and Zach had been at their usual spot, surrounded in reference materials as they worked on their various topics. Sam had come to really enjoy the study group, and found bouncing ideas off of the other students to be really helpful.

Jessica was looking particularly pretty tonight, in dark pants and a purple top, her hair falling softly on her shoulders as she poured over her books, or conversed with Rebecca. Sam had to be careful not to stare at her, not wanting the others to notice what Luis already knew. The guy was becoming a good friend, but he was way too observant.

When the closing announcement had come on, only Jess, Jason and himself were left at the library, the others having left about twenty minutes before. They all got up and went to put their materials back where they had gotten them from.

He wasn't paying attention to where he was going. He was walking along, and turned the corner into an isle, his head buried in the large book trying to glean some last minute knowledge from the text. A jarring collision and a loud _oomph_ brought him back to his surroundings to see Jessica on the floor, holding her hand to her chin.

"Oh God Jess! I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, dropping to his knee beside her. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Are you okay?"

"It's okay, I wasn't paying attention either," she winced.

"Let me help you up," he offered, holding out his hand and pulling her to her feet as he stood back up. She swayed slightly and Sam grabbed her by the elbows to steady her.

"Vertigo," she mumbled, tipping her head forward so the curls hid her face, waiting for a moment for her head to clear.

"Are you sure you're alright?" his concern for her flooded through him. He felt like such an ass…

"Yeah," she replied, tipping her head back to look him in the eyes. "I just needed a sec." She gave him a small smile then, and Sam brought his lips down on hers without even thinking. It took a full second for him to realize what he'd unintentionally done, and by then, Jess had a hand on the back of his neck and was kissing him back. All the blood in his head disappeared at the euphoria that washed over him. He felt light headed and the only thing that was anchoring him to the ground was the beauty in his arms, returning his kiss with such softness that Sam would have doubted the contact if he couldn't taste her strawberry lip gloss on his lips, or her fingers twisting in the hairs at the base of his neck. He worked a hand into the soft blond tresses that had plagued his dreams for months. Curls that he'd dreamt of touching and never thought he actually would.

They broke apart after what may have been seconds, or hours, it was hard to tell. She smiled up at him and buried her face in his chest.

"Thank God," she whispered into the material of his t-shirt. Looking back up at him she said, "I was starting to think I was going to actually have to send you an engraved invitation, or sign a waiver or something."

"What?" Sam laughed lightly, still holding her.

"If I'd known that all I had to do was get you to knock me down for you to work up the nerve to kiss me, I would have landed on my ass months ago," she grinned.

"You've been…" Sam trailed off, not believing what he was hearing.

"Sam," she said patiently, "I have been dropping hints for you almost from the beginning. What's a girl got to do to get you to make a move?"

"I didn't think that you… that I…"

"Do not tell that you didn't think you had a shot with me Sam."

"Jess, you are way out of my league," he admitted. The recurring thought was painfully obvious to him – she was a work art, to be admired from behind the velvet ropes.

"Don't," she insisted, placing a slim finger to his lips. "Don't say such things Sam, you are way too smart to be that stupid."

"It's like that song we danced to," he pressed his forehead against hers, the taste of her still on his lips and giving him the courage to come clean. "The one by the blind guy you like. The part where I could look but never touch."

"Angel Eyes," she whispered. "Sam, I don't know if you have a clear picture of yourself… or if you know how wonderful you are… but this is something I've been wanting for a long time. Please don't deny me this."

"You did? Me?"

"Yes, and if you'd bothered to pay attention to my attempts at throwing myself at you, you would have noticed." How on earth did he wind up with the most beautiful and exquisite woman on the planet, in his arms telling him he was an idiot for not picking up the clues earlier?

Sam laughed at the look on her face, somewhere between stern and laughter. Kissing her quickly on the lips he asked, "I'd like to make it up to you, can I buy you a coffee?"

Threading her arm through his, she snuggled her cheek against his arm and sighed happily, "Lead the way."

* * *

Early October, 2004

Sam was walking down his dorm hallway towards his room. Jessica's sweet voice filled his ear as he had his cell phone pinned between his head and shoulder, digging into his pocket for his room key.

"_So anyway, on Friday, Trooper is playing at Cocoa's."_

"Sounds great, who's all going?" he asked. Finding his key he slid it into the slot and turned the knob.

"_Kelly, Amber, Josh and Tyler all want to go, maybe a few others. You should invite Luis."_

Sam opened the door and turned on the light. He wasn't alone. There was someone in his desk chair with a cocky smile plastered on his face.

"Jessica, I gotta go," he said distractedly, "I'll call you later okay?"

"_Okay. Bye Sam."_ Sam flipped his phone shut to end the call.

"How did you get in here?" he demanded, beyond pissed and the edges of his vision turning black.

"Dude," Dean answered, slouching back in the desk chair with an amused look on his face. "Ten minutes and I could teach an eight year old to break into this building with nothing but a coat hanger and a paper clip," he bragged.

"You and your fucking paper clips," Sam muttered darkly. Letting out a huff he asked, "Why are you here, Dean?"

"What?" he drawled, standing up and taking a step closer to his baby brother. "You don't answer your phone, you don't return my calls… hell, you didn't even open the letters that I sent you." With that he tossed half-a-dozen sealed envelopes to the floor where they scattered like fallen leaves.

"You went through my things?" Sam accused.

"What the hell is going on here Sammy? You can't still be pissed – Christmas was ten months ago." Dean retorted angrily, taking another step closer.

"What you did was _wrong_," he growled.

"Wrong?" he repeated. "Wrong? It's wrong for me to want to spend Christmas with my family?" Dean was shouting now. "It's wrong for me to try to get my stubborn father and my jack-ass brother in the same room for a couple of hours? It's wrong for me to not want to have to be the fucking rope in a game of tug of war between two pit bulls? Neither one of you willing to just let it the fuck go?" Dean was toe to toe with his brother now, his face red and twisted with anger.

"How did you think it was going to go Dean?" he shouted back. "Did you think that Dad and I were just going to hug and then drink some eggnog together, talk about good 'ole times?"

"No, but I did think that you two could put away your differences for a couple of fucking hours – to make me happy if nothing else."

"Yeah, but putting a neat little bandage on a bleeding stump doesn't do a whole hell of a lot of good now does it?" Sam responded, backing up a couple steps in case they started to throw punches at each other because he sure as hell wanted to land one on Dean right now for breaking in and going through his desk.

"What is wrong with you Sam? Can't you be a bigger man about this and just try to make things right with Dad?"

"Look Dean, Dad said if I left to stay gone. I'm just following orders."

"Don't give me that shit. You haven't followed Dad's orders since you were fifteen. Nearly got all of us killed a couple times too, if I remember correctly."

"Are you trying to blame Dad's mistakes on me? Because if I remember correctly, last time we hunted together… he used us as bait."

"And we would have been fine if you'd just stayed in the salt circle like you were told." Dean accused him.

"Yeah, and how about the time you nearly died because Dad just _had_ to go after that black dog. He wouldn't listen to me when I told him that it was a mating couple, not a single dog. His hard-headedness nearly got us killed when the bitch went after you while Dad was handling the male." Sam was breathing hard, his eyes boring into his brothers. "I just want to go to school Dean. Go to school and have a chance at a normal life. I never chose hunting – Dad chose it for us."

"Yeah? Well we save a lot of people doing it!" Dean argued.

"At what cost Dean? Our lives? Sorry if I think the price is a little too high," he sneered.

"This isn't just about Dad anymore, is it Sammy?" Dean glared.

"What are you talking about?" he answered angrily.

"I heard you on the phone when you came in. You got yourself tied up with some girl. Jessica right? That's the name you said when you came in."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Sam said scathingly.

"No? Then what's this?" Dean yanked a picture out of the mirror's frame. In it was Kelly, Amber and Jessica, along with Luis, Josh and himself. It had been taken last weekend at the park after the bunch of them had left a baseball game where a friend of theirs had been pitching. Amber had given the picture to him yesterday and he stuck it in the mirror so that he could look at Jessica.

"You might be able to lie to your new friends about who you are, but you can't lie to me. I heard you on the phone with her. You _care_ about her. I could hear it in your _voice._" Dean said it like an accusation, poking him lightly in the chest. "So which one is she?" Dean pondered, looking at the photo. Sam tried to snatch the picture away from his brother but Dean jerked it away and out of his reach.

"The brunette with the '_don't even think of hitting on me glasses_?'" Dean looked up for his brother's reaction. "No, not her. What about the black haired Hispanic chick with the big lips and the flower in her hair?" he looked up again. "No, she looks more like my type anyway." Sam fisted his hand. "So that leaves the blue-eyed blond with the Colgate smile," Dean looked up and saw his brother's nose flare and his jaw clench. "Yhatzee," he stated matter of factly, "That's her. That's Jessica."

"Just leave Dean," Sam threatened. "Go and don't come back."

"Sammy, do you really think you're going to be able to have an apple pie life with this girl?"

"Shut up."

"You're out here chasing after a _normal_ life and I hate to tell you Sam, but guys like us don't get to do _normal_."

"And why not?" he shouted.

"Because we know what's out there man! Do you really think that this girl is going to be safe if you bring her into our world?"

"I have no intention of bringing Jessica into that world. I'm going to keep her far away from you and Dad and hunting."

"So you think that none of the big bad fuglies are gonna come looking for you eventually? That there isn't some demon or vengeful shape-shifter that won't come after you to get at me and Dad? That she'll never find out the things we've done? That you can just walk away from everything you know and everything will magically work out?" Dean face was twisted in a horrible and derisive sneer.

"What's wrong with me wanting to live my own life Dean? Huh!? What's wrong with that!?" he bellowed, shoving his brother in the chest.

"What's wrong is that we're poison, and you're going to get that sweet girl killed in the crossfire if you drag her into this shit." Dean shoved back.

Sam snapped.

He lashed out at Dean with a vicious right hook to the jaw that snapped his brother's head to the side and sent him reeling into the wall with a thud. Dean shook his head, holding a hand to his already bruising jaw. Sam towered over him, anger and fear for Jessica fueling him. "I don't need hunting," Sam growled. "I don't need Dad. AND I DON'T NEED YOU!"

And there it was. Once said it couldn't be taken back. He had said many things to his brother over the years, had even told him he hated him on countless occasions. But the conviction of his statement and the venom with which he said it, _I don't need you!_ And Sam caught his first glimpse of the cracks in his indestructible brother's armor. Those last words hung in the air, echoing cruelly in the small room – _I don't need you_. Sam saw a world of hurt cross his brother's face, and in a blink of an eye, it was gone, replaced by the empty shell of a mask his brother wore in an effort of self-preservation.

"Okay Sammy," he said softly. "Whatever you say." Dean pushed himself away from the wall so he could look his brother in the eye. "Just remember this," his green eyes narrowed to dark slits, "You can't hide who you are forever, you can't erase the things you've done and nothing you say or do changes the fact that we're brothers." With that Dean turned on his heel and strode out the door, slamming it behind him with only the barest look back. The brief look back was enough for Sam to see the pain that he had caused Dean. Looking back on the moment later, Sam would wish that he had handled the situation differently, that he hadn't said the thing that would hurt his brother most. The broken look that crossed Dean's features would haunt Sam for a long time. But hindsight is twenty-twenty, and nothing is as fierce as youthful self-righteous anger. He was protecting Jessica and the future he wanted to share with her.

* * *

Sam and Jessica were walking down the hallway of Sam's dorm towards his room. They were on their way to see a movie but were stopping off to drop off Sam's book-bag and books.

Once inside the room, Sam flipped open his laptop to check the movie times for the flick that Jess wanted to see. It had been almost a week since that night in the library, and the two of them had been spending more and more time together. Sam could barely keep his thoughts away from the blonde beauty before, now it was nearly impossible.

Sam glanced guiltily at the wall and could see a slight dent there from where Dean had hit it the other night when he had punched him. He hadn't told anyone about the fight, not Luis or even Jessica. It was something he didn't want to discuss with anyone except the one person who he had told not to call him anymore – Dean.

Sam glanced up from his computer to see Jess looking around the room and looking slightly uncomfortable. Crossing the room and touching her shoulder, he asked, "What is it?"

"It's nothing," she said shaking her head and smiling at him.

Without thinking, Sam put his hand behind her neck and leaned in to kiss her. Her breath caught and Sam used the moment to deepen the kiss, relishing in the taste of her lip gloss and the smell of her skin.

"Sam…" she breathed.

Sam moved his hands to her waist and started to slide them up under the hem of her shirt. She grabbed his hands and halted his progress.

"Sam, stop." she broke away from him, biting her bottom lip and looking nervous.

Sam immediately let her go and took a step back. Dean Winchester was very free with advice about women. One of the only things he'd ever told Sam that he actually listened to was that when a woman says stop, you stop. "Jess… what is it?" Sam asked, worried.

"Sam," she started, "I have something to tell you."

"What?" he couldn't keep his concern for her out of his voice. Whatever she had to tell him sounded bad.

"Sam…" she paused, "I'm not a virgin." she finished, looking up at him.

He tried not to laugh at what she thought was an obvious problem. "Jess, that's okay – neither am I." He moved to touch her again but she retreated a step.

"I know it sounds silly," she insisted, "but please listen to what I have to say." The distress and discomfort in her voice apparent despite her lip biting that was a dead giveaway when something big was on her mind.

"Okay," Sam said and backed up a step. "What's wrong Jess? You can tell me anything."

"I've had sex before, Sam," she said. "And it always seems to ruin everything." She was really biting into her lip now. "I like you Sam," she said earnestly and Sam was taken aback by how such a simple statement could make his heart beat faster. "I _really_ like you and I don't want to mess this up by rushing into things." She stepped towards him and grabbed his hand. "Can we wait awhile before we do this? I know you must think I've led you on and I'm sorry but…"

Sam cut her off by gently grabbing her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. "Jess, it's okay." He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "If you're not ready then we'll wait."

"You will? You don't think I'm horrible?"

"I like you too much to think you're horrible."

She gave a relieved laugh and smirked at him. "So you like me, huh?"

"Enough to let you call the shots," he grinned in return.

"Thank you," she whispered, stepping in to hug him. Sam wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back, burying his nose in her hair and breathing her in.

"Come on," he said. "We've got a movie to get to and I know you like to watch the previews."

"Sam?" She looked up at him, worried. "Are you really okay with this?"

"It'll be fine."

"It won't be too hard on you?"

"It's okay," he said. "I'll just take up running or something."

She snickered and rubbed her cheek on his arm, Sam's joke adding some levity to the taut conversation. He led the way out the door with Jess on his arm, thinking the running bit may not be so much of a joke.

* * *

A few days later, Sam and Jessica were sitting on a bench on the boardwalk, watching the sun set over the blue water. Jess was snuggled into his side and he had his arm thrown casually over her shoulders, each was sipping on a hot chocolate from the coffee shop further up the boardwalk.

They hadn't been saying anything, Jess had been unusually quiet this evening and biting her lip almost to the point of drawing blood. Suddenly she blurted out. "How much longer are you going to play the mysterious stranger, Sam?"

Confused, he asked, "I'm sorry?"

"We've spent a lot of time together over the last number of months, and I still don't know anything about you." She pulled out of his embrace and turned in her seat to face him. "You don't talk about your past, or your family, it's like you dropped out of the sky one day." She paused for a moment and looked at him with sad eyes. "Sometimes it's like you're still that stranger standing on the sidewalk that first day we met. I don't know anything about you other than what I've witnessed firsthand."

"I don't like to talk about those things," he said flatly while staring out over the water.

"I've noticed," she replied drily. "You deflect, you change the topic, or you say something so vague it has no meaning at all." She grabbed his hand in her own, "Sam, it's just that we're dating now, and I don't know anything about you. I don't really even know if you have a family. Do you have one? You mentioned a brother once, even if you didn't really mean to. And you've mentioned North Carolina… Are you an orphan or something? Were you raised in foster homes and that's why you don't talk about it?"

"Jess…" Sam started, "It's not a happy story. Are you sure you want to hear it because there's no forgetting it later – it's out there."

"Sam, I don't want there to be any secrets between us," she said softly and gave his hand a squeeze. "I just want to understand you better. I want to know _you_." She placed a cool hand on his cheek, cupping his face and he leaned into it involuntarily. She had no idea the power she held over him and he couldn't deny her what she wanted so badly.

He took a deep breath and shifted on the bench so that he could reach his wallet in his back pocket. Flipping the wallet open, he withdrew a faded and edge-worn picture. Holding it by its tattered edge, he held it for her to look at it. The photo was of a young and smiling couple, standing in front of one of those fake backgrounds, with two small children. The older boy was proudly holding a tiny baby in his lap.

"This is my family," Sam began. "Those are my parents and that's my older brother Dean holding me."

Jessica tentatively took the photo from his hand. "It looks like a happy picture."

"Well that's as warm and fuzzy as this story is gonna get. Are you sure you want me to go on?"

She looked up at him and nodded. "Please tell me Sam."

He took another deep breath and pulled her back into his side, again throwing his arm around her and leaning against the back of the bench. Staring out over the water without really seeing it, he began.

"About two weeks after this picture was taken, there was a fire in my nursery." Jessica gasped but Sam continued on. "Dad grabbed me out of the crib and threw me in my brother's arms and told him to run outside. Dad tried to save Mom, but he couldn't." Sam left out the part of Mary Winchester being pinned to the ceiling and her being the source of the flames that destroyed the house, not faulty electrical wiring that the fire officials thought. Sam may have doubted the whole story of his mother's death if it wasn't for what he'd seen hunting with his dad over the years. Or the look in Dean's eyes the one and only time he'd ever spoken of mom's death to Sam. He'd been roughly twelve when he got the truth out of his drunken brother. Drunk Dean at sixteen was an easier target than the adult drunken version. Dean had seen Mary pinned to the ceiling, her hand outstretched to them and fire eating away at her. Dean had witnessed his mother dying – and even Dad didn't know he'd seen it – and it had scarred him more than anything had since – her screams drowned out by the inferno that devoured her.

"Sam, I'm sorry," Jessica choked out, gently stroking the image of Mary with her finger.

Sam rested his head against hers, it was easier if he couldn't see her stricken face, and pushed on. "Losing Mom broke Dad. He was all alone with two kids, one only a baby, and the love of his life was dead. We moved around a lot, Dad was always changing jobs, moving from state to state. When I was young, it didn't matter, but once I was in school, it was different. I got tired of switching to new schools every couple of months. You stop making friends after a while because you know that you'll be leaving soon anyway. The only person that was a constant in my life was Dean. I remember one time, I couldn't have been more than six, and there were two older kids that were teasing me that I didn't have a mom. I was crying and they just kept going at it and I cried louder and louder for them to shut up. Dean heard the fuss and came running, and when he saw those two boys were tormenting me, he went wild. They didn't stand a chance. It didn't matter that there was two of them and that they were bigger than Dean. He just threw himself at them and let them have it. I mean, even as a _kid_ he was tough, and he was always looking out for me. No one was going to take a shot at _his_ little brother as long as Dean Winchester was around.

"So we moved and moved, always in rundown motels and shabby apartments, living out of the car half of the time. I lost count of how many schools I'd been enrolled in by the time I was in the fifth grade. Dad did whatever job he could do for cash under the table, mechanic, construction, he even took a job as a repo man once, and the guy he was working for told me and Dean that '_our daddy was one scary-ass sonofabitch,'_ like that was some sort of fucking compliment or something.

"Dad was never around. He'd leave for days on end and it would just be me and Dean. I would start to think that Dad wasn't coming back and Dean would say, _don't worry Sammy, Dad will be back, you'll see._ Sometimes while Dad was gone, we'd run out of food. Dean didn't think I noticed when that happened, and even though we had no money, there would be food in the cupboard again. I'm pretty sure that Dean would steal it from stores rather than go to a food bank. The guy had a strip of pride in him that wouldn't accept a handout.

"Up until I was about nine, I thought our Dad was some sort of CIA agent or something like that. I mean why else would we always have to move around, and why else would a father leave his boys alone for days on end? It was really hard learning the truth – that my Dad didn't have a cape. That he was just a lousy father, a man more obsessed with his demons than his kids." Sam caught his breath at the slip, and hoped that Jess didn't take it in the way that Sam meant it. He hurriedly continued on. "We didn't have much, and sometimes we had to leave in a hurry. I learned that anything valuable never left your duffel.

"By the time I was thirteen, I couldn't keep it in anymore. I was angry at him, and we fought all the time. The little time he spent with us I was waiting for him to leave again, just me and Dean like it always was.

"In school, the only bright spots were sports. My team-mates were the only things I had that were close to friends. I played soccer – mostly to piss Dad off because he hated it. Dean played baseball and he was really good. It was the only thing he ever indulged himself in – besides girls. He was so good that he won a baseball scholarship to Florida State. I didn't find out about it until a year later when I found the letter by accident. When I asked him why he didn't go he said it was because he hated Florida. But I knew it was because he couldn't leave me with Dad. Dad didn't know about Florida State, Dean hadn't told him. He just folded the letter up and kept it hidden in the pocket of his duffel bag. He never even bothered to graduate, eventually he got his GED because I bugged him so much about it, and Dad just scoffed at why he needed a piece of paper.

"After the Florida State thing, I pretty much waged war on the old man, even more angry now because Dean had passed up on a golden opportunity because of us. We fought constantly, and Dean kept getting in the middle, trying to break us apart. He just wanted the yelling to stop – we were tearing him apart. The only reason we never came to blows was because Dean broke us up before it could happen. All Dean wanted was his family to get along enough that we weren't trying to rip each other's throats out.

"My senior year of high school, there was a mandatory meeting with the guidance councilor to discuss our plans for after graduation. I told the guidance councilor that I didn't have any plans; that college wasn't in my future. Then she asked why, when my marks were so good. So I told her that there wasn't any money for me to go. She told me about how there were so many bursaries and scholarships out there for people like me, that all I had to do was apply and hope that I was selected. I just shook my head and left her office, telling her that that kind of good luck didn't happen to guys like me. So the councilor filled out the forms herself, and a couple weeks later I was called into her office where she told me I had been selected for several of the bursaries that she had filled out on my behalf. I was sitting on nearly eight thousand dollars of awards, and suddenly college didn't seem like so far-fetched of an idea. She called me back to her office a few days later and she handed me a letter from Stanford. The letter said that if my grades maintained the same until graduation, that I would be offered a full ride. And Jess, I nearly fell to my knees in shock and disbelief. I was holding in my hand my ticket out, like a get out of jail free card in Monopoly.

"I didn't tell anyone about the letter, not even Dean. I kept it secret until the graduation ceremony where it was announced along with the other students who had been awarded scholarships. Dad wasn't at the ceremony, but Dean was sitting in the audience. He asked me afterwards why I didn't say anything about it, why I didn't tell him and I said that I didn't want to say anything until it was for certain.

"So Dean told Dad a couple days later when he came home from wherever it was he had been that was more important than his son's high school graduation. Dad flipped. Said that there was no way I was going to fucking California; that I wasn't going to school period. We fought for weeks, he would leave, come back and fight some more. Dean stayed quiet about it the whole time.

"The week before school started, me and the old man got into it pretty heavy. I went and threw my stuff in my duffel, planning on catching the next bus west. I put my hand on the doorknob to leave and Dad said, _you walk out that fucking door Sam, don't you ever come back._ So I left. It was pouring rain out and I got to the end of the parking lot when Dean came running after me. He was like, _Sammy don't do this, don't go – not like this._ I told him I had to go, that I couldn't take Dad any longer. I asked him to come with me, Jess, I begged him to. _Come to California with me Dean. It can just be the two of us, like it's always been. We won't have Dad around making life miserable, we can have our own lives. I can go to school and you can do what you want for once, and you'll be able to look at pretty girls in bikinis on the beach all year long._ He just looked at me with this broken face – told me he couldn't go, that he had to stay and take care of Dad. I had a golden ticket in my hand and he couldn't come with me."

Sam turned to look at Jessica for the first time since starting his story. Her eyes were overflowing with tears, the tracks burned angry red streaks down her cheeks. "How messed up is that Jess?" he demanded her. "Dean can't live his own life because he's got to watch out for Dad?"

"Sam," she choked, swiping at her cheeks.

"Dean did everything for me, and I left him there in the rain. Jess, I'd do anything for my brother, but I couldn't stay there any longer, I had to get out – and I _left_ him there."

"Where are your Dad and brother now Sam?" she sobbed.

"I don't know," he whispered.

"You haven't spoken to them since?" she whispered back.

Sam sighed, "I've spoken with Dean. My first year here he used to show up for a couple of days every few months. We'd hang out, have a couple drinks, it was great. That first Christmas he showed up here and we drove all the way to Minnesota to spend the holidays with Pastor Jim and his wife Elsie. They were kind of our adopted grandparents. It was one of the best Christmas' I ever had. Spring Break, he showed up and we went to Vegas and he stopped in once over the summer break. Then, the following Christmas, he came and got me and we went to our Uncle Bobby's in South Dakota. Christmas Eve, Dad showed up. Dean had set us up, getting us both in the same spot, hoping that we would work things out. Needless to say that didn't happen and things were worse than they were before." Sam left out the part about Bobby pulling a shotgun on John. "I left and caught a bus back to school. I wouldn't answer any of Dean's calls, or open the letters he sent. I was so mad at him, I felt like he betrayed me."

"And that was the last time you saw your brother?" she asked, tears still streaming down her face and Sam felt guilty about being the cause of them.

"He showed up at my dorm last week," he admitted guiltily. "We got into a huge fight… he won't come back again." Sam stared at his lap, shame heaped upon more guilt.

"What is it your father did while he was away Sam?"

"Please Jess, don't ask me that – don't make me lie to you."

"Oh Sam," she cried, burying her face in his chest as she sobbed, "I'm so sorry."

Sam felt empty inside, hollow. Jessica was distraught over the extremely abbreviated version of his life, and he wondered what would have happened if he had told her the entire truth. Told her about the weapons training, the hand-to-hand combat, the guerilla tactics and the survivalist training. If he'd told her about the Latin lessons and the salt circles, the demonic symbols, the black magic and the rituals. What would be her reaction if she knew he had gone on hunts with John? That Sam had both been back-up and bait? Without telling her about the supernatural aspect of the story, he became aware that John Winchester came off sounding like a Mafia hit-man. And Sam supposed that John was a supernatural version of Luca Brasi – the Enforcer – in the Godfather.

It was at that moment that Sam understood what Dean had tried to tell him. And he realized that he had to do it quick while he still had the determination to go through with it. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he gently pushed her away from him and stood. "I'm sorry Jessica, we can't do this. I'm sorry." He quickly strode away.

A dozen paces later, Jessica was in front of him and pushing on his chest to halt his escape. "What are you saying Sam?" she cried. "You don't want to be with me anymore?"

Sam stuck his hands in his pockets, and gazed over her shoulder at a spot in the distance. He was afraid that if he looked at her or touched her, he would lose his resolve. "Jess," he started. "I should never have told you any of this. But now…" he trailed off. Swallowing hard he said, "You deserve better than me Jessica."

"Why? Because of your father?" she demanded. "Because I don't care! I don't care about any of that Sam, I care about you!" She shoved him in the chest and swiped angrily at her tears.

"Jess, you don't understand." He was fighting off his own tears as his heart was breaking.

"What is it I need to understand Sam?" she shrieked, her tears flowing wildly from her eyes in her anguish.

"That I'm poison," he said flatly, repeating the words his brother had told him last week.

Jessica reached up and grabbed his face in her hands to force him to look at her. "Sam! Look at me!"

Sam turned his gaze to meet hers and felt his determination weaken. Hers was a face of angry defiance.

"Sam, I don't care about any of that." she said fiercely, shaking his head slightly in her forceful grip. "You are a _good_ man Sam. A good man." she insisted, still jerking his head slightly to emphasize her words. "Whatever it is that your father is into, that's not you! You are smart and funny and big hearted and I'm not letting you walk away from me like this!"

"You deserve better than me Jess. Why can't you let me go?"

"Jesus Christ Sam! I can't let you go because… because I think I'm falling in love with you." She buried her face in his chest again, wrapping her arms around his waist and sobbed in to the material of his shirt, her shoulders shaking as cried.

The Winchester resolve evaporated at her words. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair.

He had been in love with her since the start.

(- - Angel, by Sarah McLachlan - -)

* * *

I always wondered what would have happened between Sam and Jess when the question of his family came up. She would have asked him questions about stuff like that, that's what people do. And he would have had to tell her something, and that something would have had to be bad enough so that she would understand why he didn't have contact with his father or brother. So I hope I got this right and that you guys enjoyed it. Also, a little brother fighting always makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside so I hope you all enjoyed the Dean smashing into the wall bit.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 7

Thanksgiving, November 2004

"…so there's this Agatha Christie play being put on by the Aberdeen Players this weekend, do you want to go?" Sam asked into his phone.

Jessica's sweet voice in his ear responded, "That sounds like fun, but my parents told me this morning that they were going to go to my aunt's in LA for part of the long weekend, and they asked if I could stay home with the dog."

"Ohh," Sam said dejectedly, "well maybe we could see it the next weekend. I'm sure that it'll be running for a couple weeks."

"That sounds great Sam," she paused, "Sam?"

He could picture her on the other end, biting her lip. "Yeah?"

"Do you want to come over, keep me company?" she asked hesitantly.

Sam felt his throat go dry. "Yeah, sure. That sounds great." He hoped his voice didn't sound to her the way it was ringing in his own ears. "We can watch a movie or something."

_A movie? What were they? Fourteen?_

"That would be nice… I'll make dinner. We can make a night of it."

"Okay. I'll see you Saturday then?"

"Yeah, I'll pick you up at five, okay?"

"Sure. See you then Jess."

"Bye Sam."

Sam closed his phone and leaned back in his chair. Rubbing his face in his hands he tried not to let his expectations to get up. Jessica probably meant it the way she said it. Just come over and keep her company for the evening while her parents were away. It was just that they were very careful to make sure that they were only alone in public places since Jessica had told him that she wanted to take it slow. It wasn't as if they had a lot of opportunity to be alone anywhere private anyway as she lived at home with her parents, and the guy that Luis had met that night Jess got loaded and passed out didn't turn out so well for his roommate and he was spending a lot of time in the dorm. They had been dating nearly two months now, and while Sam would never rush her, he had been doing a lot of running lately.

* * *

Saturday evening had Sam and Jessica sitting at her parent's kitchen table. The remains of their dinner and a bottle of barely touched wine between them. Soft music was coming from the CD player on the top of the fridge, while the two of them were laughing at each other's stories from the previous week. It had been a hard two weeks and they had barely seen each other outside of school.

Jessica got up and started rinsing the dishes and handed them to Sam to stack in the dishwasher. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. "Supper was great, thanks."

"It was burnt, Sam," she said dryly, rolling her eyes.

"That's the way I like my lasagna." he insisted.

"I could have put a can of cat food in front of you and you still would have ate it and told me it was good."

"Some of those Fancy Feast varieties do look pretty tempting," he joked.

Jessica smacked him in the chest and handed him the last plate. She went and stood at the patio doors and looked out. "It's a nice night," she said, "do you want to take the rest of that wine out on the deck and finish it?"

"Sure." His mouth went a little dry as he tucked the dry plate up in the cupboard.

Jess grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch while Sam got the bottle of wine and their glasses from the table. Following her out the patio doors, she turned on some white Christmas lights that ran around the perimeter of the deck and sat down on a wooden bench against the wall of the house. Sam sat next to her and handed her her glass after she had thrown the blanket over the two of them. Sam put his arm over the back of the bench, allowing Jess room to snuggle into his side.

She closed her eyes and sighed, "This is nice."

"Yeah," Sam whispered, leaning his head to rest on hers. It was a cool night, and Sam, having never been to Jessica's house before, was admiring the moonlit gardens before his gaze fell on the hot tub at the end of the deck. He had never been in one and wondered if it was as great as everyone always made them out to be.

"What is it?" Jess asked as she raised her head from his shoulder, sensing his distraction.

"Oh, sorry. It's nothing," he answered, taking his gaze from the tub.

"Is it the tub?" she asked. "Do you want to go in?"

"What? No… no that's okay." he said quickly.

"It's alright," she said, getting up and kneeling on the edge of deck. Reaching over the side she pressed on a lever that would release and lift the cover of the tub. As the cover lifted, Sam could see swirling wisps of steam escape into the air, lightly illuminated by the tiny white lights on the deck.

"No, really Jess," he stammered, standing up. "I didn't even know you had one. I don't have anything to wear."

"That's okay," she answered, biting her lip, "neither do I." She turned away from him and pulled her shirt over her head. Still turned away, she shimmied out of her jeans and socks. In nothing but a bra and little pink panties she nimbly slipped over the edge of the tub and into the steaming water. Submerging herself under the water, she resurfaced, water streaming from her hair and the moonlight softly reflecting on her lightly tanned wet skin. Sam stood frozen on the deck, breathless by the beauty in front of him. She touched a switch on the edge of the tub and the jets kicked in, making the water froth and boil.

"Are you coming in?" she asked hesitantly, still biting her lip, and up to her neck in the roiling water.

"Yeah," he answered, his downstairs brain kicking in and he hurriedly shucked his clothes. Stripped down to his jockeys, he lowered himself into the water. _WOW! _People weren't exaggerating when they talked about the glories of hot tubs. He sat in one of the seats letting the jets play his body, trying to take his eyes off Jessica and being completely unsuccessful. How could one girl be so beautiful? She was looking back at him from the other side of the tub – staring at him actually.

She got up from her seat and slowly started coming over to him. There was a hesitant yet determined look in her eyes that Sam could _not_ misinterpret. His breathing got faster and shallower as his heart started beating faster.

"Jess," he warned.

She sat in his lap and snaked her arms around his neck, bringing her face to his and kissing him. She shifted in his lap, burying her hands in his damp hair and deepened the kiss. Sam's head was foggy, his thoughts slowed by desire and the heat of the water. His arms wrapped around her on their own volition, hands wandering over the creamy smoothness of her back. She reached to her shoulder and started to slide her bra strap from her shoulder. Sam broke the kiss and covered her small hand with his large one, stopping her hand from going further.

He gently replaced the strap to its original position before huskily saying, "You don't have to do this Jess." He was trying desperately to regain control of his breathing. It didn't matter if she had started this and it didn't matter how bad he wanted to continue. He wouldn't be able to look himself in the mirror tomorrow if he didn't offer her the opportunity to stop. "I can wait," he said looking her in her beautiful, clear blue eyes. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly through his nose in an effort to slow his heart, he rested his forehead against hers. "God Jess… for you I'd wait forever," he breathed.

"I know," she said, cupping his face in her hands and kissing his lips. "I know you would," she added. "That's why I know this is right." She kissed him again.

"You're sure about this?" he asked as his heart picked up speed again.

"Yes Sam, I want to do this," she whispered, kissing him again. "God… I want this."

A low growl escaped his throat as he buried his hands in her wet hair and claimed her mouth with his own.

* * *

(- - Make Me Do Anything You Want, by Helix - -)

The late morning sunshine poured through Jessica's bedroom window. The pale curtains doing nothing to diminish the bright rays. She was snuggled into his side, head pillowed on his chest and her blonde hair tickling the bare skin it brushed against. A soft, warm hand resting lightly on his stomach and soft breaths caressing his chest.

He was in _heaven_.

He wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with her all day, just watching her sleep and memorizing the freckles on her nose and counting the eyelashes on each eye. But her parents were supposed to come back later that day, and naked and in bed with their daughter was not the way he wanted their first meeting to go.

He tried to worm his way out from under her, but sweat-cooled flesh stuck together like glue and she stirred as he tried to extricate himself. She blearily opened the world's bluest eyes and he felt his soul flare when they fell on him.

"Hey baby," she whispered, smiling and pressing a kiss to his chest before snaking her arm across him to hug him to her.

"Hey Jess." He kissed the top of her head and buried his nose in her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

"You're not getting up are you?" she sounded disappointed as her hand went from hugging him to trailing lightly over his stomach muscles. And suddenly, getting out of bed was the worst idea he'd ever had.

"I was just gonna get the clothes from the deck. They're probably all damp and cold from being out there all night."

"Mmmm," she mumbled sleepily, nuzzling her face against his skin. "Throw them in the drier and come back to bed, okay?" She gave him a slow wink that for a second blotted out all thought in his head.

He swallowed hard. "Yes Ma'am."

Leaning over the edge of the bed, he grabbed the wet towel off the floor that they had used to dry themselves off after getting out of the hot tub and making their hasty retreat to the bedroom. Trying hard not to flash her, he wrapped the towel around his waist as he slid out from under the sheets, jumping slightly as the wet, cold material touched a sensitive spot.

"Look who's shy all of a sudden," she giggled into the pillow. He could feel his ears getting warm, standing there over the bed of an angel, who was naked and sleek and soft and… _inviting_. She bit her bottom lip, whispering, "Hurry back."

Sam walked out to the patio doors, relishing in the morning sunshine and the promise in Jessica's eyes. He slid the glass door open, feeling the chill morning air embrace his skin. Barefoot, he walked out on the wooden deck, gathering up damp, cold clothes and grateful for the privacy the backyard had.

The hot tub lid was still open, they had been too pre-occupied to close it the night before, what with being naked and wrapped around each other and all. Sam knelt where Jess had the night before, looking for whatever switch she had pressed that had opened it. He found it, pressing the switch and the soft sound of the motor filled his ears as the lid lowered itself back into place. He tilted his head back to let the sunshine fall on his face.

He couldn't remember feeling so _alive_. He could still feel the ghosts of Jessica's caresses on his skin and he wanted to get back to her immediately.

Picking up the rest of the clothes – his shorts were soaked through and so were Jess' under-things – he walked back into the house whistling happily – smack-dab into who must be Jessica's parents, both of whom jumped back at the sight of a towel-clad stranger in their house. Jess came running down the hall, tightening a robe around her.

"Mom! Dad! Aaahhh… you're home early." Embarrassment was thick in her stammering voice as she pushed her hair behind her ears nervously.

Sam felt as if his skin was about to catch fire. _Pay no attention to the naked guy holding wet underwear here_.

"It's nearly noon Jessica," her dad said flatly, not taking his eyes off the near naked giant holding his daughter's underwear in his hands.

Sam held a firm hand to the twist in the towel on his hip, knowing that according to Murphy's Law, now would be the time for it to fall.

_Can this get any more __awkward__?_

"Aahhh… Mom, Dad… This is Sam."

* * *

Christmas Break, 2004

"Mmmm," Jess sighed happily into his chest. They were naked and spent, and Sam's narrow dorm bed left no room for Jess other than directly on top of him – and he wasn't complaining.

"Is that a good '_Mmmm_'?" he asked, running a giant hand up and down the length of her bare back.

"It's always a good '_Mmmm_'," she grinned sleepily, pressing a kiss to his throat before sagging against him.

Sam rolled to his side and pressed his back against the wall so that she could lay on her side, curled into him. Jess propped herself up on her elbow and lightly started tracing the long scar on his abdomen. There were no secrets between their naked bodies now, and Jess normally traced his various scars after love-making. She never asked how he got them, and he'd never answer her if she did. Since that conversation on the boardwalk weeks ago, she didn't ask him questions about his past anymore. Just like he knew she was dying to know how he got the puckered red hole on his thigh, he knew she would never ask. It didn't take a doctor to know the one on his thigh was a bullet wound, and she knew exactly what it was. The first time she'd seen it, she'd gasped and reached a tentative hand towards it, touching it gently as if it were brand new instead of years old. Her mouth had started to form the question '_how?_', but she quickly bit it off when his face went flat and blank. No – there were no ways to hide the damage hunting had done to his body, but at least Jessica wasn't plying him for answers.

Her current fixation was a scar from an angry poltergeist when he was sixteen and the damned thing had thrown him through a window before his Dad swung an iron poker at it, dissipating it. Dean managed to find the scant remains, a shriveled finger tip, in a heating duct and set it on fire just after the poltergeist threw John down a set of steps. The story to go along with the bullet wound was not so carefree.

"I'm gonna miss this after Luis comes back from Christmas break," she murmured softly.

"Miss what?"

"This," she gestured around her, "this private place of ours… where it's just the two of us."

Sam understood what she was talking about now. His dorm room was his for the time being, Luis not set to return until after New Years, and he and Jessica had been making good use of the empty room. She'd been sleeping here most nights now, her soft warmth and morning smiles making his heart ache with longing when she wasn't around. He couldn't imagine her out of his life now. She was everything.

"Yeah, I'm gonna miss your elbows in my ribs in the morning," he teased her.

"That so?" Jess dug her fingers into his ribs, tickling him until he flipped them over, rolled on top of her and pinned her arms above her head. That led to several minutes of breathless kissing before they broke apart, panting.

"We need a bigger bed," she groaned.

"Yours is a double." He trailed kisses up her throat and pressed his lips to the soft spot behind her ear.

"Yeah," she breathed. He had learned that the behind-the-ear thing practically killed her. "Only problem with that is that my parents are always home."

"Too bad your dad is on Christmas break too." Jess' dad, as a teacher, didn't have to go back to work until after New Years as well, so was home during the day when the two lovebirds would prefer he wasn't.

The Moores had been very gracious towards him since the Thanksgiving Weekend fiasco. The initial shock of finding a naked man in their kitchen wore off after Jess insisted on him joining them at church the following Sunday, and every Sunday after that. Being very liberal minded, her parents accepted that their daughter was in an adult relationship, they just didn't want to be a party to it. So that meant no more sleep-overs at Jess' place, or at least sleeping in her room. They had invited him to spend Christmas with them, and Sam couldn't refuse and had to suffer the awkwardness of sleeping on the rec room sofa that was about three feet too short for him. Nina and Dave had shown up late in the day as they both worked a morning shift, and Dave had made a show about giving Sam a gift. His ears turned bright red when the package revealed underwear and Dave grinning like a jerk saying that you could never have enough pairs of underwear around. Then there had been the excited squealing when Nina held out her left hand to show off a shiny-new diamond ring Dave had placed in her locker at the hospital with a note on a gauze pad wrapper asking her to marry him.

Jess. Was. Ecstatic.

"But then school will be back in and we won't have that alone time anymore anyway," she complained.

"We'll find a way," Sam kissed her forehead. "Even if I have to pay Luis to leave for a bit."

Jess grimaced at that idea. "Just what I want – Luis knowing every time we have sex," she rolled her eyes. She pulled back from him, or at least as far as she could with him still pinning her to the mattress. "You know," she bit her lip, "we could always get a place of our own…" she trailed off and her face went bright red because Sam was sure the look of incredulousness on his own face rendered her silent.

"Y-you…" he stammered, "You want us to move in with each other?"

"Or not," she said quickly, like it was all some joke that fell flat. Only Sam didn't think so. He thought she'd just given him the best news of his life.

"You wanna live with me?" And he could feel the smile pulling up the corners of his mouth.

"Yes," she whispered, like she was afraid that speaking too loudly would break whatever spell was over the room at the moment.

"You don't think that's moving too fast?" He wanted to give her the chance to back out. He wasn't sure if she understood that what she'd offered to him was something that he'd wanted since they started their physical relationship. He wanted to wake up every morning with her elbows in his ribs, her hair tickling his face, her beautiful blue eyes opening to meet his green ones. He wanted it so bad that he could taste it, sweet on his tongue like honey.

"It is moving fast, but I love you, and I think we could make it work." She bit into her bottom lip so hard that it turned white. "That is… if you want to." Her eyes held a mixture of hope and fear that made the color of her eyes more vibrant.

"Yes." And Sam brought his lips down on hers to cement in her mind how much he wanted it.

* * *

Her parents hadn't been too keen on the idea of them living together, trying to persuade their daughter to wait a few more months, to wait until June when she would be done with her teaching degree, but Jess wouldn't hear of it. '_Why wait?_' had been her response countless times, to her family, her friends, and himself when he'd questioned her about it. She seemed pretty determined about the whole thing and Sam really didn't want to rock the boat on this one. He wanted this too bad.

He told the housing committee that he was moving out at the end of the semester, which was only three weeks away, and was told that it would take up to four weeks to refund him the semester's lodging he'd already paid for. That sucked, they needed that money for a security deposit on an apartment. Jess had found a condo-hacienda type of apartment that was being sub-letted out by a couple that was moving to Oregon. They could take it at the end of January when the semester finished, and come September when the original lease was up, they could transfer it over to their names.

Sam went back to the building he'd been security guard for over the summers, and asked if he could pick up weekend shifts until he could do full time over the summer. Amber's cousin Carlos said that he could get him a job as a bouncer and would pay better, but Sam needed the quiet of the security gig so that he could study and keep his grades up. His scholarship depended on his grades staying high and Sam couldn't afford the tuition and rent and everything else that went along with living on your own.

Jess took a job as a waitress at Amber's family's restaurant. It was funny, that living together so that they could be with each other more was so far making it so that they saw each other less. But he would soon be able to crawl into bed next to her most nights, he would smell her shampoo on his pillow, and he would wake up to the world's bluest eyes every morning.

Moving day was hectic. They had lots of help from Jess' friends though they didn't need much help – it wasn't as if Sam was over laden with personal possessions. They ended up buying a lot of the furniture from the former tenants who were looking for a speedy move and they scored big on the furniture front; the sofa, kitchen table, a TV, the coffee tables, and loads of other little things that they didn't have the money for to buy new.

Sam had to work that first night, and he felt like an ass leaving Jess in their new place all by herself on the night they should have broken in every room together.

"Don't be stupid Sam," she pushed on his chest to force him out the door. "We have to work to pay the bills – that's how it works."

"But I should be here helping you unpack."

"Well, look at it this way," she grinned, "this way, I get everything where I want it and you only have to worry about learning to put everything back where you found it."

"I have my cell on me, call me if you need _anything_." He leaned in and kissed her on the lips.

"I think I can handle it Sam," she rolled her eyes. "What's the worst that could happen? A ghost pops out of the hallway closet?"

Sam tried not to blanch at that flippant statement. Jess had no idea about the supernatural, and he was damn sure gonna keep it that way.

"Go Sam. I got this." She successfully shoved him out the door and kissed him quickly before shutting the door in his face.

* * *

It had been a long boring night at the downtown office building, but Sam had managed to get some studying done in between bouts of absolute worry for Jessica in the new place alone. He'd have to get some wards in place as soon as she was out of the house. He was already planning on carving some sigils on the sides of the door frames when he unlocked his new door for the first time and entered his new home.

Jess had been busy.

The place looked like they'd been living there for months, with a couple magazines spread out on the coffee table and a mug of cold coffee next to them. Sam dropped his coat on the back of the nearest chair and looked around. There were blankets thrown casually over the backs of the sofa and arm chair, plants lined the window sills, and the curtains were up and pulled back to let in the bright January sun. Sam could hear the shower shutting off, and contemplated going in there to join her before she got out when his gaze fell on the new-to-them entertainment center in the living room. Particularly to a couple framed photographs on the shelves that Sam had never seen in frames before.

He crossed the room in two long strides, grabbing one of the frames that held two pictures that he knew he'd had in an envelope in his 'desk box'. They were the pictures that Dean had given him before of the two of them as kids and sledding at Jim and Elsie's. His eyes lingered on the one of his father pushing them down the hill and the look of happiness on all their faces. He replaced it and picked up another picture – this one of a young John and Mary, with John's arms draped over Mary's shoulders in a loving embrace. They were standing in front of the home they'd just purchased – the one that would burn within two years of this photo being taken.

He was still staring at the picture when he heard Jessica pad up to him. She was wrapped in a towel, her hair hanging wet around her shoulders and she was biting her bottom lip so hard it was white. "I was looking for scissors in your box…" she said softly, placing a warm and damp hand on his arm. "I'm sorry if you're mad, but those photos don't belong hidden in an envelope." She reached out to run a gentle finger down the side of Mary's golden hair. "Look how happy they were," she whispered, "you should focus on that instead of everything else."

Sam swallowed hard and replaced the picture on the shelf. He was fighting hard to keep his hands from trembling because he couldn't hide things like this from her now. She didn't know about his life before, and she would never know. All he'd told her was that his mom died and John was an asshole who neglected his kids, and who was in some shady business that Sam wouldn't discuss with her – and there were scars that he would never explain. So he couldn't expect her to know that seeing these treasured pictures on display in their new apartment was like a kick to the gut. He sent a silent prayer skyward that the metal lockbox full of a hunter's arsenal was safely hidden in the bedroom closet at the back of the top shelf. Jess was tall, but not tall enough to see it there unless she stood on a chair and moved the clothing stacked in front of it.

"You're right Jess," his voice was fighting to not come off as hoarse. "They shouldn't be hidden in an envelope anymore." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead as she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. Sam buried his nose in her wet hair and was reminded of what she was wearing… or not wearing.

"When are you supposed to be at the restaurant?" He asked, lips against her neck and his hands roaming up and down the length of the terry cloth.

"I got a couple hours…" she breathed, tilting her head back to give him better access to her throat.

"Good." He gripped her suddenly around the backs of her thighs and lifted her. She squeaked in delight as Sam carried her to their room.

* * *

Things became routine for them. They went to school, they went to work, they made love and planned a future for themselves.

They were blissfully happy for three whole months… and it all started with a dream.

* * *

A/N: And thus ends the fluff. Say goodbye to that pie Sammy. I am gonna enjoy this _way_ too much… (imagine me sitting here with an evil grin and rubbing my hands together - Bwa-ha-ha)


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 8

May 2, 2005

(- - Bounce, by Danko Jones - -) _playing on alarm clock_

Sam blearily opened sleep crusted eyes as the alarm radio cut in, the song way too upbeat for this early in the morning, but that was the point he guessed. Jess was standing in front of the closet looking at the clothes hanging there. Sam allowed himself a moment to appreciate the view.

He _loved_ those little shorts she wore to bed.

She must have sensed him looking at her cuz she turned her head and smiled at him. The smile growing into something else, she ran and leapt onto the bed – and him – pinning his arms to the pillow and lightly nipping his neck. "Happy birthday, Baby," she purred into his ear.

"It is too early in the morning to be my birthday yet," Sam groaned as Jess slid against him.

"I set the alarm clock to go off early," her lips were traveling up and down the stubble on his jaw.

"Why the hell would you do that?" She pulled away and winked at him, biting her bottom lip and smiling expectantly. "You're evil," Sam moaned. "You know that right?"

"And devious," she grinned. "You have no idea what I have planned for you tonight." She slid against him again eliciting another groan out of him.

"And what do you have planned for right now?" he cocked an eyebrow at her.

"I feel like being creative," she whispered into his ear.

"Give me two minutes in the bathroom and I'll do whatever you tell me to."

"You've got one minute… make it count."

"I love when you get bossy."

"Go."

Sam slid out from the covers and trotted into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Birthdays rocked.

* * *

They were both home for the evening – a luxury as they were in the midst of finals fever and they should be studying instead of leisurely celebrating. Jess had picked up some of Amber's mom's Beef Tamales from the restaurant for him – his favorite, as Lucia Juarez honestly made the world's best tamales. They were sitting at the candle lit kitchen table, a bottle of white wine between them. Jess was a California girl, and loved the vino. Sam didn't care for it much, being a beer man, but kept his mouth shut and drank it anyway. Tipsy Jess was an adventurous and generous Jess.

The meal over, Jess took the plate from in front of him and dropped it in the sink. Coming back to the table, she fell across his lap, wrapped long arms around his neck and kissed him softly. Pressing her forehead to his, she whispered, "I love you Sam."

Sam slid his arms around her waist, holding her gently and returning the kiss. "I love you too, Jess. What did I do to deserve you?"

"You're a good man." The world's bluest eyes burned into him as she said it and it was with practiced discipline that his face didn't twist with guilt at the statement she's said more times than not. She didn't know, and she would never know. He's killed, he's hurt, he's stolen; he's done so much bad in his life that the balance would never be restored no matter what he did from now till the end of his life. Dean's final words resounding in his head '_we're poison…_'

"…And you're an angel." He pressed a kiss to the soft spot under her jaw to distract himself from the normal self-deprecating track his thoughts usually took.

"This coming from the guy who never went to church a day in his life six months ago," she kidded.

It was true, they'd never gone to church growing up – it wasn't in their lifestyle. But since the awfulness of the mortifyingly-awkward Thanksgiving weekend, Sam was now a regular at the Sunday services with Jess and her family. At first he went out of a feeling of obligation, now he found it peaceful and reassuring to be a part of that congregation. And standing there with Jess holding his hand while she sang the hymns gave him a feeling almost akin to serenity.

"Happy Birthday Baby," she kissed him again, deeper and with more conviction.

A sudden realization hit him. This woman loved him, knowing that there were secrets he was keeping from her. This woman chose him to build a life with and by hell or high water, he was gonna give her what she deserved. A growl built deep in his throat as he slid his hands into her curls and claimed her mouth with his. Standing and scooping her up bridal style, he carried her to their room.

* * *

He didn't know where he was.

It was dark and dank and fetid. The air was close and acrid with urine and blood and fear and the combination sent his stomach churning. He didn't know how he got here. The last thing he remembered was Jessica panting in his ear, and now he was in a brick alleyway – God knows where – and there was a prickling feeling on his skin… like he was being watched. He whirled around in place, scanning the darkness for another presence, looking up to find there was no end to the dirt and soot crusted brickwork that he could see. The walls went on and on into the blackness. No stars, no moon, no streetlights, he could only stand there in a fight-ready crouch, waiting for whatever was out there to come at him. And there was something out there – the hairs on the back of his neck were primed and ready because of it. Animal instincts forged over tens of thousands of years of evolution, plus hunter's instincts honed over a lifetime – there was something here.

Slowly, Sam backed up. Silently sliding his feet backwards until he hit the wall, knowing that fighting against a wall was a bad idea, but not having another choice other than to reduce the angle of the impending attack. Whatever was out there could now only come at him from in front of him or from the sides – not from behind.

_Or from above_, he thought idly. He had no idea what was out there, it could be perched on the wall above his head like a giant spider for all he knew.

Keeping his back to the wall, he took a step to the right, then another. He didn't know if this direction would get him out, but what other choices did he have? It was left or right, and right sounded okay for the moment because left felt bad. He had to find a weapon, and he needed room to fight and a little light would be nice too. There was no light here, only a murky non-light that defied definition. Just black heaped on deeper black and only his senses on over-drive to guide him.

Step, slide. Step, slide. Step, slide. Whatever was here with him was keeping pace with him – he could feel the evil reaching out to him in a smothering embrace.

Step, slide. Step, slide. Step, slide. He could almost feel hot breath on his face, sour and vile.

Step, slide. Step, slide. Step, slide. There wasn't any wall behind him now, just empty air. He was out of the brick alleyway and was at a crossroads. Three directions to choose from, all looking the same as the one he'd just left. Which way to go? Go back the way he came and face whatever evil was in there, or one of the other three and try his luck in an attempt to escape.

_You need a weapon idiot,_ he scolded himself.

Sam took the alleyway behind him… the air didn't feel as thick this way. Keeping his back to the wall, he sidestepped along in the dark, nerves flayed raw with anticipation and adrenaline, waiting for the evil sonofabitch to attack cuz it was still there. Still shadowing his every move, but it seemed to have let a little more distance creep in between them. Sam didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. Maybe there was something down this way that was worse than the monster stalking him. And the thought of something worse than the absolute evil he'd sensed breathing down his neck in the darkness almost made his knees give out. He couldn't give up though. He wouldn't give up – not without a fight cuz he didn't know how to lay down and die. His father's stubborn-ass pride and determination ran through his veins too. He would never give up.

An image of Jessica floated to the front of his mind, her golden hair fanned out on a pillow, her face serene with sleep, and the image gave him strength. It started a fire deep in his gut that spread out to the rest of him to chase the pressing darkness away. He let the image of Jessica rest on his shoulders like a golden mantel, a shield and a source of power all in one. His love for her fueled this power, as it spread to grip his heart and set fire to his veins.

The alleyway opened up again, only this time it wasn't a crossroads with another direction to pick. This was a huge and cavernous room, empty and dark and his soft footfalls echoed around the blackness to come back at him and slam into him like bass thudding into his body from standing to close to large speakers. His heartbeat was roaring in his ears as he tried to see into the obsidian void that had opened up in front of him.

The thing that had been stalking him – or herding him – was no longer there, but the sense of dread increased ten-fold. Something beyond evil was in this space with him.

* * *

Sam woke up with a start.

He shot straight up, soaked in sweat and gasping for breath. He tried to fight his way free of the blankets that had wound their way around his legs. Kicking and clawing, he didn't hear her angel's voice at first, so intent on escape that he was.

"Sam!" her voice slammed into him with the force of a slap, but his cheek stung, so maybe she did physically slap him. "Sam! Stop it! Wake up!"

He couldn't see. He was blind, or he was still in the black cavern and the presence was bearing down on him.

"Sam!" Warm hands were gripping his cheeks and shaking his face. "Look at me!"

His eyes shot open, wild and roving and Jessica – beautiful Jessica – was gripping his face and her features were twisted in worry and fear and shock. Sam wrapped heavy arms around her and sank back onto the mattress, dragging her down with him and holding on for dear life. Her hair fell across his face to tickle at his skin and the fragrance of the golden curls brought him back from the grip of where ever he'd been.

"You're okay," he murmured into the honeyed locks. "You're okay."

"Of course I am," she sagged against him and stroked his cheek. "That must have been one hell of a nightmare, Baby."

Sam was still gasping. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and the vestiges of the adrenaline overdose was making his heart jack-hammer so bad he thought his ribs might explode. Swallowing hard and gulping down Jessica-scented air, he released his death grip on his girlfriend.

"Sorry…" he gulped, burying his face in the crook of his elbow, trying vainly to recapture some semblance of calm.

"What was it about?" she asked softly, curling into his side and tracing circular patterns over his heart. "You were kicking and screaming for a few minutes before you woke up. You had me terrified."

"Sorry," he apologized again. "I don't remember much…" That wasn't a complete lie. "Everything was just black." That was the truth. Gasping for breath, the images of his nightmare started to fall away from him, like sand in a sifter. Only the largest parts of the dream remained with him. The monster that was hunting him in the dark, and the smoke wreathed shadow in the giant room. He couldn't see the shadow, but he felt it – an image superimposed on his brain of a man-like shape made up of deeper and darker shadows than the ones around it.

Sam had seen some crazy shit in his life. He'd come across creatures most people's worst nightmares couldn't touch. But the malevolence that wafted off the Shadowman had permeated itself into his soul. It sunk into his pores and he could taste the evil in the back of his throat like a fetid carcass.

The Shadowman's dark laughter had chased him screaming into the surrounding darkness.

* * *

Four days.

It had been four days since his birthday and that first nightmare. He was finally starting to sleep again, instead of the scattered and scarce hours here and there he'd been getting the last couple days. He looked like death warmed over with the dark circles under his eyes and he felt _hollow_. Like there was nothing in him at all. Every time he closed his eyes to sleep the echo of that maniacal laughing pierced him in the heart and made his stomach revolt and his flesh crawl.

But on the fourth night, he was in the alleyway again. He was backing up from the beast-creature, took a different direction at the crossroads than he had before, ended up in a labyrinth of alleys, and still wound up in the cavernous room with the Shadowman.

He had actually fallen out of the bed when he ran from the cavern, his legs locked in the twisted blanket on the bed and his chest and arms on the floor scrabbling to pull himself free. Jess had leapt out of the bed in panic, hands to her mouth as he was lashing out with his fists before he realized that he was in his apartment and Jessica was looking at him in terror. He slumped against the floor, chest heaving and heart racing and he couldn't _breathe_.

"Sam?" Jess squeaked, taking a small step around the bed towards him. "Sam, are you awake?"

"Yeah… sorry…" he gasped, clutching at his chest and pulling the sweat soaked t-shirt away from his skin. Jess took another hesitant step towards him and as he was trying to pull his legs clear of the blanket he realized that there was something wrong with her.

He looked up at her and she was still holding her hand to her mouth. "Jess…?" He yanked his legs free and rounded the bed in three long strides. "Jess, what happened?" He was instantly afraid that he might have said something in his delusional screaming when she shrunk back from him slightly when he reached for her hand. "Jess – what the hell?"he cursed when he gently pulled her hand from her mouth.

Her lip was split and bleeding.

"Oh fuck Jess," he breathed, guilt and shame washing over him. "Did I do that?" He reached a tentative hand towards the pink lips he loved so much. "Oh fuck Jessica… I am so sorry."

"You didn't do it on purpose," she winced when he touched his fingers to her swollen lip. "Your elbow got me when you fell out of bed."

"Still… I…" And Sam had nothing to say to her other than to stammer apologies. He felt like shit. He had hurt her – the one person he never wanted to hurt _ever_.

"Another nightmare, Baby?" she rested her warm hand on his chest over his heart, and he knew she could feel it pounding away beneath her touch.

"Yeah. Same as last time."

"Everything was dark?" she snaked a hand around his waist and rested her ear against his heart.

Sam let his arms wrap around her shoulders and held her close. "Yeah. Everything was dark and I was running."

"You haven't been sleeping too well the last couple of nights – since the first nightmare. Is there something wrong?"

"If you want to analyze my dream Jess," he tried to joke, "then you've been taking too many Psych classes."

"There has to be a reason if you've had the same nightmare twice in a couple days," she insisted.

There was no way that Jessica was going to understand a nightmare like this one, and he wasn't about to tell her about the Shadowman and his dog – or whatever the hell it was. This was more than a nightmare, and he knew it – it was too real. So he lied, like he always did. "It's just finals stress Jess," he kissed her forehead. "I'm in the dark and running because I'm stressed about the finals and my scholarship is riding on my marks."

"Now who took too many Psych classes, Freud?" she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck.

"Psych wasn't so bad. There was this really pretty girl in my Psych class last summer…"

"Yeah? Did you ask her out and that's why it took so long for you to make a move on me?" she gave a tired laugh against his neck and Sam felt a fresh wash of guilt ride over him.

_Her beautiful lips…_

"I'm sorry I elbowed you," he buried his nose in her hair and breathed deep. "I am _so_ sorry."

"Not your fault Sam," she reiterated, poking him in the ribs lightly. "But the next time you take double gainer off the bed, forget the windmill arms, okay? You lose points on form for that."

* * *

Two days.

On the second night, Sam was in the alleyway again. He took different turns than he had previously. He still wound up in the cavern. He still woke up delusional and swinging. Luckily, Jess had gotten out of the way pretty quickly and no more damage had been done to her, other than the worry about his nightmares and the lack of sleep they were both getting.

He had to get a grip.

This couldn't go on. He felt like he had the work '_Freak_' stamped on his forehead and Jessica was looking at him with increased levels of alarm. He knew he looked like hell, and he tried to cover it up as best as he could. But there was no hiding the haunted look on his face, he couldn't hide the grayish pallor his skin had faded to, and the dark circles under his eyes were beacons to those around him. He joked around to Luis and others that it was Finals that was doing it to him, and they laughed it off because Finals made everyone a little nuts.

Sam had taken to studying late. Jessica would go to bed and he'd still be at the table with his books, claiming that he'd be along soon. He was lying to her again of course. He would stay up with his books, just looking at the pages and not really digesting what was written there – only he seemed to be absorbing it through osmosis or something because he was doing really well in all his classes and tests. It was like there was more room in his head the last couple of days and school was getting easier instead of harder. He knew that was wrong. He should be a wreck with the pathetic amount of sleep he was getting – and granted he looked a mess – but his head was amazingly clear.

So he stayed up with his books, trying to stay awake so that he didn't dream of the alleyway or the Shadowman and his dog. And when that became impossible, he fell asleep at the table or on the sofa so that he didn't wake Jess up, or worse, hurt her again.

But you can't fight off sleep forever, and when the dreams found him the next time, he would be ready because he wasn't running anymore.

* * *

He hadn't slept in his bed in days. He would always slide in an hour before the alarm clock would go off so that Jess wouldn't think anything was amiss. The dreams hadn't returned but he knew that they would. He had scoured the internet for information about dreams and came up with a lot of crap. Things that were written by people with too many initials after their names and no experience with the supernatural, because this wasn't a normal dream or nightmare. He knew that as sure as he knew his own name. Whatever was happening to him was more like Freddy Krueger on crack cocaine.

Sam had analyzed every part of the dream he could remember. He made the decisions on what directions he took at every juncture. The beast followed him, pushing him further and further but never coming nearer, and then he disappeared as soon as Sam hit the cavern. It was only debilitating fear that kept Sam from going in one direction, and that was straight for the beast.

So Sam was gonna suck it up and take the bastard down with his bare hands. Screw the search for a weapon and light and room to fight – there wasn't any of that in the maze-like alleyways that always lead to the cavern and the Shadowman. He was going straight for the sonofabitch this time.

_So help me God_.

* * *

It had been a week since the last nightmare. It was almost as if the dreams were scared to come to him now – as if they knew his plans. Jess was worried about him. The way she looked at him the last number of days was haunting his non-sleep. The worry and concern ate at him like an ulcer, carving little bits of him out and making him feel even more hollow. He was about to call the whole thing off and start trying to be normal again, instead of the act he was putting on for Jess and her friends. Maybe the dream was all in his head, and it was his messed up mind playing tricks on him after all. Maybe his decision to confront the beast was enough to trigger whatever switch in his head that had been flipped in the first place.

Maybe it was over… but Sam couldn't kid himself with wishful thinking. It wasn't over and he knew it.

He didn't stay up pouring over his books that night. Instead, he curled up in front of the TV with a B-rated horror flick that he knew Jess would hate but was one of Dean's favorites. Bruce Campbell… Enough said.

Jess curled up her nose at the evil Tree rapist, snorted, "Are you seriously watching this?"and called it a night, leaving him alone to 'watch' the rest of the movie. Sam stretched out as much as he could on the sofa, his legs dangling over the edge and a throw pillow behind his head. He clasped his hands over his chest, and closed his eyes.

_Come and get me bitch_.

* * *

He was back in the alleyway.

It stank as much now as it did the very first time he was here. Urine and blood and fear and darkness and evil. He swallowed down the fear that was bubbling up in his stomach and threatening to spread out to the rest of him. He clenched his hands into tight fists and raised them to a ready stance, glaring into the darkness that engulfed him.

"Where are you?" he called into the black. It was the first time he'd voiced anything in this dream-world that wasn't a scream. Sam took a giant step to the left – he'd never gone left before as the beast always seemed to be to the left. "I said, '_Where are you?_' you sonofabitch!"

There was a low growl to his left. It made the hairs on his neck stand up and his stomach drop and the fear bubbled and roiled up against his heart and squeezed tight.

_No_.

Sam took another step to the left, towards the creature.

(- - Animal I have Become, by Three Days Grace - -)

"I'm not running this time," he whispered into the darkness. "So let's get this over with you evil fuck." And he charged headlong into the darkness and the monster that was waiting for him.

The beast ran and Sam tore off after it. He couldn't see but his instincts were on overdrive and he ran full tilt into the black, sensing the creature just ahead of him. He didn't care if this was a trap. He didn't care if the beast turned on him suddenly to attack him. He was running after the thing that had hunted him, and that. Felt. Good.

Anger and rage built up in him as he ran. A power filled him and the clarity of his mind over the last week made everything sharper in the darkness. He could feel the beast dying beneath his own hands, and he was gonna enjoy making it happen.

And extra burst of speed shot out of him, and he was lunging at the fleeing monster. His arms wrapped around a furry chest and the pair of them went crashing into the brick lined ground. He could feel the dirty brickwork tearing and scraping up his arms, biting into his side but he didn't care. The evil was in his grip and he wasn't letting go. They wrestled furiously, growling and snarling and digging into each other as they rolled through the filth and decay. The creature bit at him, clamped down on his arm with razor teeth, and Sam wailed on it with his other fist. He couldn't see. He was as blind now as he'd ever been here, but it didn't seem to matter. Whatever he was fighting was an animal of some sort. A dog or cat-like creature but Sam was leaning more towards dog. Black dog… Hellhound… he didn't know. And he didn't know how you killed either with your bare hands. Black dogs needed silver bullets in the heart… Hellhounds… well… you couldn't kill Hellhounds with anything.

But he fought anyway. He kicked and hit and tore until they rolled over a precipice and started to fall. He landed with a thud on the floor of the cavern, the beast landing heavily next to him – unmoving.

A light went on from somewhere. It was like a light shining up through deep black water, diluted and gray and not much help. But after all the darkness he'd endured, it may as well have been a spotlight shining brightly into his eyes.

And then he felt him. The Shadowman.

He was standing between Sam and the light, making his silhouette more absolute, but not adding anything to facial features. He was still made up of shadow and Sam spat out a wad of blood, struggling to regain his feet cuz now he was gonna go after this sonofabitch too.

The Shadowman started laughing. The deep rumble of absolute evil reverberating through his head and tearing at his soul. "You're not ready to take me on boy," it chuckled and nodded at the carcass next to him. "But nice job on that one. You fought back sooner than I thought you would." Sam could feel the shadow smiling at him. "You've just become my favorite contender."

"What do you want with me?" Sam demanded, fists clenched and teeth bared.

"Not yet Kiddo," the Shadowman smiled. "Not yet. Why don't you take some time to bask in the glory of defeating your greatest obstacle?"

"What – your pet?" Sam sneered. "I've been up against worse than that sorry excuse of a guard dog."

"He's not mine Sammy-boy." The shadow smirked. "Why don't you take a look at him? Admire what you've done?"

Sam's eyes flitted quickly to the dark mass on the ground, not wanting to take his eyes off the Shadowman for even an instant.

His stomach dropped and his heart jumped into his throat, cutting off his oxygen supply and choking him.

It wasn't a beast lying dead on the ground.

It was Dean.

The Shadowman disappeared in a wisp of smoke and an echo of laughter resounding around the cavern.

And Sam started screaming.

* * *

A/N: I've been waiting to get to this part of the story. Thanks to you guys for waiting out the fluff ;D


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 9

Mid-May, 2005

Sam rushed headlong into the bathroom and threw up everything he'd eaten in days – which wasn't much. His stomach rebelled and clenched and Sam could only brace one hand on the tub and one on the rim of the bowl and hope he didn't wake Jess. The image of Dean battered and in a broken heap on the cavern floor was burned into his frontal lobe and he could see it clear as day as he squeezed his eyes shut against his retching stomach.

He pulled himself upright by grabbing onto the towel rack over his head and using the tiled wall to brace himself against. He sank against the pedestal sink, elbows braced on the porcelain and splashed cold water over his face and rinsed cold water around in his mouth until his teeth hurt. Grabbing the towel he patted himself dry and looked into the mirror.

(- - Orca, by Wintersleep - -)

He didn't really recognize himself. Not with the ashen color of his skin, and the wild, blood-shot look in his eyes.

He felt as if there were tiny bugs crawling under his skin, and it must have been a trick of the light and his nightmare kicking him while he was down because he actually thought that he saw movement under the thin skin of his eye – like that movie 'The Mummy' with Brendan Fraser when the scarabs started to eat that guy from the inside out.

Dean had loved that movie. And the thought of Dean made him want to ralph all over again.

Battered and broken Dean. Dead Dean. Dead by his hands.

It was only a dream. Dean was alive somewhere on a hunt with Dad, or laid up with some chick and a six-pack. Dean was not dead in the Shadowman's cavern room in Dreamland. He did not just kill his brother. None of that shit was real. Sam tore his t-shirt off and studied his arms and chest and back. If he had been fighting, there would be scrapes and scratches all over him. Not to mention the beast had clamped down on his arm at one point and his arm was free of puncture wounds. That was all the evidence he should need. No marks anywhere that weren't there the day before. Familiar scars and freckles and moles all in the same place they'd always been.

So why couldn't he calm his racing heart? It was thudding painfully in his chest, and his throat was raw from emotion and the projectile vomiting he'd just been through. His brother was indestructible. That had been a fact that had saved his sanity since he was nine and learned the truth about everything. That Christmas in Broken Bow or where ever the fuck they'd been and he'd found his dad's journal and read it while Dean was out and he learned everything about their messed up lives. And Dean had promised on more than one occasion that he would never let anything bad happen to him – that he'd always be there. So Dean was not dead and that was just a nightmare and Sam really needed to get a fucking grip because he would know if Dean were dead.

He'd know… Wouldn't he?

Sam paced the tiny bathroom on still weak knees. _Dean was fine. Dean __is__ fine_. It was a mantra running through his head. _Dean. Is. __Fine_.

He slipped out of the bathroom and went back to the living room to get his cell phone. He had to know for sure that he was okay.

He held his finger over the number seven key, hesitant to press it to connect it to his brother. He actually stared at the phone, willing it to dial the number itself so that he didn't have to do it. A feeling of dread that it might ring and ring on the other end and there wasn't a cocky sonofabitch brother to answer it made a cold sweat break out on all over his body.

He pressed the menu button instead and scrolled down through the contacts until he came to his Dad's friend Caleb. You could count on Caleb. A Desert Storm Vet, Caleb was a good hunter and he kept an ear to the ground while keeping his mouth shut. It was the middle of the night in Palo Alto, and Sam didn't want to figure out what time it was in Texarkana, but he pressed 'send' anyway.

Three rings later, "'lo?" a sleep heavy voice grunted into the receiver.

"Caleb?" Sam whispered.

"Who's this?" the voice got a bit sharper.

"It's Sam. Sam Winchester."

"Sam?" the voice was incredulous and definitely more awake. "Been a while kid. What's up?"

"Caleb… have you been talking to Dad or Dean lately?" Sam decided to just come out with it. There wasn't any point to beating around the bush at three am.

"Your dad a couple hours ago. Why?"

So recently, but was it recently enough? "Are they okay?" he asked.

"They said something about a stake-out in Delaware. Why? What's going on Sam?"

"Nothing… just… nothing."

"Right. You were just calling me at nearly five in the morning to say 'Good Mornin' right?"

"Are they on stakeout together?" he asked, ignoring the sarcasm in Caleb's voice.

"That's what John told me," he sighed tiredly.

"Okay then," Sam breathed. If Dean was with Dad, no way in hell was Dean dead in the cavern. Dad would keep him safe.

"Something on your mind Kid?"

"No, just… don't tell Dad or Dean I called, alright?"

Caleb huffed in frustration. "You Winchesters are good hunters and all, but y'all are fucked up."

"I just wanted to know they were okay Caleb. I wasn't looking for a Dr. Phil moment."

"You coulda called them. Stubborn. The lot of ya."

"Thanks Caleb, and sorry I woke you up."

"Stupid sonsofbitches," he muttered.

"Don't tell them I called," Sam stressed.

"You know I won't. Take 'er easy Sam." The phone clicked off and Sam sank into the kitchen chair in exhaustion.

Dean was with Dad. Dean was safe in Delaware. Dad was watching Dean's back and Dean wasn't dead in fucking Dreamland.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. The last couple days of stubble stabbing his palm and tearing at the skin. Dean was okay. Dean was in Delaware. Dean was with Dad.

He tossed his cell on the table and shuffled to the bedroom. He was exhausted but he never wanted to sleep again. He slid into bed next to his angel and wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. She mumbled something in her sleep that Sam didn't understand, but it didn't matter. He pressed a kiss to her temple and breathed in the smell of her shampoo and let it fill him up.

He held her for the rest of the night – thankful that she was okay. Thankful that Dean was okay. Thankful that school was only for another week and then he would be out for summer break. Because he didn't plan on sleeping ever again, and things would be easier if he didn't have to add school and nosy people to the list of things to avoid for the rest of his life.

He was never going to sleep again.

Because he knew the Shadowman would be waiting for him when he did.

* * *

The next day Sam went to see a guy who he knew had a reputation for being able to hook people up with whatever they wanted. Dude was paying his way through fucking college being a drug dealer and if things weren't desperate right about now, he would never go near the douche. That being said, Sam was beyond desperate and willing to do whatever was necessary because he could still see Dean crumpled and bloody and torn and he could still feel the sticky wet blood on his hands and…

_Fucking pull it together Sam_.

Alan could always be found on the Quad, near the Student Union Building. It was his turf and everyone knew it. On the outside, the guy looked normal, no gang affiliation insignia or bandanas or torn jeans and leather. The guy was wearing baggy cargo pants, a plaid shirt and skateboard sneakers, playing Hacky-sac with a group of guys and laughing about something or other. He was totally trying to live up to the west coast grunge look that fell out of fashion shortly after Cobain died and was starting to make a comeback.

Sam stood outside the group, off to the side and leaning against a low stone wall with his arms crossed over his chest and waited for Alan to notice him staring at him. It didn't take long, and as soon as Alan seemed to back out of the circle of players, the rest of the group disbanded and seemed to melt away. A couple remained, casually playing but keeping their eyes on the giant guy leaning against the wall. Sam could only assume that these guys were his back up if things ever went sideways, and since Sam was a fresh face to them all, they were gonna hang around to make sure there was no trouble between him and their supplier of all things fun and illegal.

"Hey Brother," the guy called, walking up to Sam and stopping a few feet away. "I see you before?"

"Yeah, we were in a Lit class together last year."

Alan stroked his jaw and looked Sam over, "Yeah… the big quiet dude." There were about a dozen rows of chairs between the two, but apparently Alan had taken notice of the guy who always tried to fly under the radar. Alan leaned on the wall next to him and asked, "So what can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for something."

"Aren't we all?" Alan laughed. "What, in particular, are you looking for?"

"Benzedrine."

"Bennies, Bro?" his eyebrows quirked.

"Yeah. Got any?"

"I've got some stashed away. Need to get some serious studying done?" Alan's brown eyes twinkled with amusement and Sam was overcome with a desire to slug him in his flat face.

He fought to keep his fists from clenching. "You could say that."

Alan shrugged. "No difference to me so long as the bills are paid."

_Douchebag_.

"How much do you charge?"

"How much you looking for?" A light shone from his glassy eyes and Sam wondered if Alan was on anything himself.

"As much as you can give me."

"I have a strict policy that I don't sell enough to anyone so that they can sell it themselves behind my back."

Sam had to forcibly stop himself from laughing. Was this guy serious? Sam could wipe the floor with this douche and his whole pussy entourage with one hand tied behind his back. "Trust me," Sam said softly, "it's all for personal use."

"Okay then," Alan conceded. He probably figured that since school was almost over, he had to start scraping together next year's tuition money. "I've got a bottle for you. One hundred pills, two-fifty."

Sam launched himself off the wall angrily. "Two hundred and fifty bucks?"

Alan actually smirked at him and fuck did Sam want to wipe that smirk off the bastard's face. "Don't like it, get a prescription."

_Fuck_.

"Fine," he growled.

"Meet me outside the coffee shop by Nealon Park. You know it?"

"Yeah, I know it," he grunted.

_Two fucking fifty_.

"Good. Meet me there at seven, come alone or I walk."

_Asshole_.

"I'll be there."

"Alright Brother," Alan held out a hand for one of those cheesy hand-slap handshakes and Sam just glared at him in return. Douche put his hands up in surrender. "Alright Dawg, keep the love to yourself." Alan reached down to pick up his book-bag, "Just remember who's got what you need."

The dealer walked away, his buddies falling into step beside him as they crossed the Quad towards their next class.

He rubbed a palm over his face. How was he gonna scrape together two hundred and fifty bucks when he and Jess were strapped for cash as it was? He had thirty bucks in his pocket that was supposed to be for his cell bill, the rest of his meager bank account was untouchable unless he wanted Jess to find out about his decision to opt for an illegal uppers purchase in lieu of paying rent.

_Fucking hell_.

He sighed heavily. He knew how to make some quick money… hustling was in his blood after all. He had just always hoped to leave that lifestyle behind and now he didn't have much choice.

He was desperate.

* * *

He spent hours in several seedy downtown bars to scrape the cash for Alan together. It was amazing how much better he played with all the room in his head now. Just like the studying without trying thing – things just seemed to fall into place. Didn't mean it had been easy… and it didn't mean that the skin-head in too much leather and the spare tire around his gut liked Sam scoring a wad of his cash. To be honest, Sam had gone to the bars and went after that specific kind of player just so that he could up his take. Which one of these guys thought that they'd lose to some drunken, shaggy-haired, preppy college kid in jeans and a hoodie? But the skin-head followed him outside and Sam had to defend himself. The biker was slow and out of shape and didn't account for a kid knowing how to fight like Sam could. And again, all the extra room in his head made everything seem like it was happening in slow motion so that he could see every move the skin head made, was about to make and thought about doing. And he even shocked himself with the savagery of his attack. It was like he was having an out-of-body experience and watching himself beat the snot outta this guy from above.

What was really scary was the detached feeling he had about the whole thing. That, and the fact that he kinda liked being back in the fight again. It had been a part of his life for so long, and now that he'd been without it for the last two years, the adrenaline rush was… well… a rush.

But he got the money he needed, and he met Alan around the side the coffee shop he mentioned. The two guys from earlier were there too, just to make sure that Sam didn't try anything like robbing Alan or trying to screw him over in anyway. Sam again had to suppress a derisive snort at the three of them. They wouldn't stand a chance against him.

"So…" Alan started, stuffing the wad of bills in his pants pocket, "I'm like, outta here next week – back to Phoenix."

"So?" Sam groused, tucking the bottle into his back pack.

"Well, do you go home somewhere, or do you live here?"

"I live here," Sam said flatly, wanting to get the hell out of there and get home before Jessica did. "Why do you care?"

"Well, really I'm just wondering how heavy you're planning on using those," Alan nodded his head towards Sam's pack. "You should have more than enough to last 'til freakin' Christmas if you're only using them sporadically."

"What difference does that make to you?" he asked snidely.

"You make your money on repeat business Bro. I'm not in the business of helping guys O.D. themselves."

Sam snorted. A drug dealer with a conscience. How nice.

"I've got a job as a night watchman for the summer," Sam rolled his eyes. "They're to help me stay awake. That's it."

Alan held his hands up in surrender. "All right man, alright. But you don't know where you got those, right?"

"I found them." He just wanted the hell out of there and his head was killing him. "Look, I gotta go." Sam turned then and walked away, clenching his fists the whole time because he still hadn't come down from the rush of fighting the guy at the bar earlier, and he briefly contemplated going after Alan and his wussy brigade. He really wanted to do just that, and he hurriedly put some distance between him and the douches because that thought seemed so foreign and so _wrong_ to him.

* * *

Sam was flying.

School had been out for over a week now and he'd had approximately eight hours total sleep time during the last five days. Jess worked days at the restaurant while he was on nights at the office building downtown. They rarely saw each other, with their schedules conflicting like they were, and every time Jess saw him it was with a frown and a worried, '_you don't look so good Baby_' followed by her pushing his hair back and pressing her palm to his forehead to see if he was sick or something. He wasn't sick… jittery yes, wired yes, buzzed up like a firefly on a sugar high – yes. Sick? No.

So he did what he always did and lied to her, saying, '_It's just the night shift screwing me up, and studying for the LSAT. It's okay_.'

He hated hiding from her, and he knew damn well that was what he was doing. He could have had a daytime position at the office building but jumped at the night watchman gig so that he could say he slept all day while she was at work. Jess stopped asking if he had nightmares because he told her he'd stopped having them every time she asked. Truthfully, if he was having them in the sparse hours he was snagging here and there – he didn't remember them. The Bennies were little miracles in tablet form and he didn't feel deprived at all. In fact, he was getting really used to the roominess in his head but there was a little paranoia issue that was digging at him. He always felt like people were looking at him, and he started getting little vibes that Jess was giving him funny looks too. But there were no nightmares of never-ending brick alleys, no monsters of unknown identification, no Shadowman, and most importantly, no dead and crumpled and bloody brother heaped on a dirty floor with the Evil-of-evils laughing at him.

Nope. Things were fucking peachy.

Which is why he got all weirded out one evening when he awoke from a cat nap and found Jess in the kitchen. He thought she'd been at work and was internally grateful that he had been sleeping when she got home, so that she wouldn't suspect him of lying to her about his new habits. He did a fake yawn and stretch and cursed that he couldn't get his Bennies fix with her right there.

"Hey Jess," he yawned theatrically, leaning in for a kiss on her forehead. "What are you doing home already?" He turned for the counter to put the coffee maker on. Caffeine, he needed caffeine.

"It was a slow day at the restaurant so they said I could go home." She perked up a bit and said, "I also got a call today about a teaching position opening up on the other side of town. It's for the fourth grade and I called them and they said I could come in for an interview tomorrow if I was available."

"That's great Jess," he smiled his first honest smile in weeks at the good news she had for him. Only out of school for less than two weeks and she already had a job interview. He wrapped her up in a hug that had become far too infrequent lately and kissed her forehead again. "You'll knock'em dead."

"I hope so," she bit her bottom lip and smiled up at him. "You know…" she slid her hands around his waist and leaned back a bit, pressing their hips together a bit, "This is the first time in over a week that we've both been home and awake…" her small warm hands started ghosting their way under his t-shirt.

With all the conscious avoidance going on, Sam had forgotten that part. "Does seem like a bit of a travesty, doesn't it?"

"A damn shame is what it is," she smiled and pressed her lips to his jaw, sending shivers racing up and down his spine. It had been _way_ too long since the last time they'd had a chance to be intimate together.

"Got any ideas how we can rectify that?" his hands drifted from her around her shoulders to a possessive grip on her hips.

"A few…" she tipped her head back to allow him better access to her throat. He ran his lips up and down the pale column of soft skin and let her scent fill up his expanded head space and make his chest ache with longing.

_Definitely way too long…_

* * *

"Baby wake up." Jess prodded him sleepily in the ribs.

"Mmmhh?"

"You've got to go to work," she mumbled into his chest.

"Don't wanna…" he shifted so that he could hold her closer. Definitely way too long since the last time he'd held her like this, naked and spent and content like they were.

"Bills Baby, bills," she poked him again but without conviction, actually draping one long leg over his and sliding her calf up and down his.

"You sound really convincing," he snorted, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before sighing and pulling the blanket back.

"I'll make you something to eat while you grab a shower, 'kay?"

"God I love you," he groaned, grabbing his shorts off the floor as headed for the bathroom for a shower and a Bennies fix.

He came into the kitchen ten minutes later, his uniform on and his hair still damp. Jess had made him a turkey sandwich and he snagged a triangle up off the plate. "Did they say anything else on the news about that big accident on the Freeway?" he asked around a mouthful of food.

"What accident?" she asked from where she was perched against the counter drinking a glass of milk. Her tank top and little shorts didn't make him very eager to go to work.

"The one outside San Jose."

"I never heard anything about it," her forehead creased as she spoke, trying to remember if she'd heard anything about an accident.

"Come on Jess… just outside Milpitas? It was like a twenty car pile-up," he admonished her. She spent way too much time listening to her CD player and not enough time listening to the radio.

She shook her head slowly, "Sorry, I didn't hear a thing."

Sam shook his head. The news had shown a view from one of the overlooking buildings of the massive pile-up, and the traffic backing up for miles behind it as the whole Freeway came to a standstill.

"When did it happen?" she asked, turning to rinse her glass in the sink.

And he didn't know when it had happened. When had he seen it on the news? Was it this morning? Before he went and caught that nap just before Jess got home from the restaurant this afternoon? "You know… I'm not sure."

Jess shrugged. "I'll keep an eye on CNN later for you if you want. Do you want a ride to work instead of catching the bus? Give me five minutes to throw some jeans on." He would have told her not to bother, because in another ten minutes or so, the little white pills would start to kick in and he'd been pretty careful to not be high-beaming around her. But he couldn't refuse, she had already walked towards the bedroom and who takes the bus when there's a ride offered? Refusing would bring more attention on him than keeping his shit together for an extra ten minutes.

The ride to the office tower was short as there wasn't much traffic at nearly eight. Jess chatted about the job interview tomorrow and Sam tried to pay attention to what she was saying while listening to the radio at the same time. You'd think that they'd talk about the accident instead of local shifty politicians and what they were spending tax-payer dollars on.

Just as they were pulling into the parking lot at work…

_This just in…_

Sam leaned forward and turned the dial up, cutting Jess off mid-sentence. He shrugged in apology but turned rapt attention back to the radio.

_Reports of a massive pile-up on the Nimitz Freeway has backed up north-bound post rush-hour traffic for three miles. Though the cause of the accident is still unknown, at least twenty-two cars have been involved, many crushed and drivers trapped within awaiting help from emergency services. The police are urging motorists to remain in their vehicles and to stay out of the way of emergency crews. If you are trapped on the Freeway and in need of assistance, dial 911, but only if it is an emergency._

Jess gave him a surprised and shocked look, "What the hell?"

His stomach dropped. This shit wasn't happening. "I… I…" his mouth was opening and closing but that was all he was capable of right now, expanded head room be-damned. The words '_this just in_' was running circles in his head.

"Sam?"

_This just in…_

_Ho. Ly. Fuck_.

"Sam… how?"

"I… I don't…"

_This just in…_

"…know…"

"Okay – that is the freakiest damn thing I've ever seen," Jessica cursed in amazement as she slammed the gear-shift into park and turned in her seat to stare at him.

It didn't come close to the freakiest think he'd ever seen… because he'd seen some messed up shit in his life… but this was definitely causing some serious alarm at the moment. How the fuck did he know there was an accident on the Nimitz? He knew it over thirty minutes ago. He knew it while in the shower after he'd woken up… _Oh shit_.

He tried to remember if he'd dreamt after making love to Jessica. He tried to remember if he'd dreamt while sleeping before she came home. He didn't know… and he didn't know when the knowledge of the accident first came to him. But this shit didn't happen. Psychic shit wasn't real. He'd come across enough screw-balls and frauds in his life time then he'd care to admit. Someone always said they had premonitions or visions or what-the-fuck-ever they had… but it was never real. It was always a hoax. How did he fucking know there was a pile-up on the freeway? His heart was lodged firmly in his throat and it was beating like crazy. He couldn't breathe and he was fighting for some control because Jess was _looking_ at him.

"You ever hear the one about the guy who picked up radio signals with the fillings in his teeth?" he joked, pleading with his heart to stop pounding before she heard it over the grumble of the Colt's engine.

Jess snickered. "Here I thought it was ESP," she joked back. "I was about to ask you what the winning lotto numbers for Friday were gonna be so I could run out and buy a ticket."

"Not likely. Freakin' weird though, huh?"

_Levity… need levity_.

"I'll say."

"I gotta run, Jess. See you in the morning." He leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek and prayed that his heart wasn't audible outside his own ears. "Good luck tomorrow." He swung out the door and nearly ran into the building because he was royally freaked about the whole thing.

_How the hell did he know there was an accident on the Freeway?_

* * *

A/N: Anyone out there got a song stuck in your head and then you turn on the radio and there's your song? Freaky huh? Damn fillings.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 10

Early June, 2005

_Another victim of Thursday's accident has succumbed to his injuries today. That takes the count to three fatalities and four still in critical condition. Another two are in serious, but non-life-threatening condition. Authorities are doubtful they will ever find out the cause of the accident, and ask that anyone with knowledge pertaining to the incident to come forward._

The freeway accident thing was still freaking him out even days later. He'd upped his Bennies dosage because he didn't remember dreaming of the accident, only waking with the knowledge that it had happened and that was enough for him to not want to sleep ever again.

_Holy-fucking-hell_.

He'd known the news crews would show footage from the roof of a nearby building hours before it aired. He'd seen the emergency crews scurrying around, he'd seen the twisted metal carcasses of the cars, he'd seen a lazy trail of smoke wafting towards the sky… and he'd seen it long before it aired on TV. He'd been plastered to the little TV at his watch desk the entire night, and when the eleven o'clock news came on and showed the scene he felt his chest constrict and his stomach drop and his heart fucking stopped because he'd seen the whole thing in his head already.

And he didn't understand why he knew there would be an accident. Was it something to do with the Shadowman? No. He'd remember if the Shadowman had been involved – of that he was sure. And how would that be possible if he had been involved? The Shadowman was a clairvoyant and was into sharing? That was freaking ridiculous. The Shadowman was a dream… well… whatever he was, he was more than a dream. But he hadn't dreamt of the Shadowman since he'd killed Dean in Dreamland, and Dean wasn't dead cuz he'd know and no one called him and someone would fucking call him if Dean was dead and no one fucking called him so Dean was fine!

_Get a grip Sam!_

So Shadowman wasn't involved with this. This was just something really screwed up and he'd find the answer soon cuz no way in hell was he sleeping again. The little white beauties in his pocket would take care of that.

* * *

He wrote his LSAT yesterday. The whole thing was a blur as he tried not to look at the people next to him to see if they were watching him. He could feel them watching him – watching and judging. They could see what a freak he was, he knew it. He'd known of an accident happening before it actually happened – of course he was a freak. And they kept looking away every time he cast a quick furtive glance in his neighbor's direction. They were sneaky, they knew he was watching them watching him and they looked away just in time to avoid his detection. But he knew.

He tried to concentrate on the test. It was important to get a good score if he wanted to get into a top notch law school. Better still, he needed a good score to get a scholarship to a top notch school. He could always apply for student loans, but that would run up a fortune sooner rather than later, and he wanted his and Jessica's future to start out on the right foot – not be over laden with massive debt. The small amount of debt they were both carrying now was not an easy burden to bear, and not for the first time he considered going the route of his father and brother and doing a little credit card fraud. The only reason he didn't was because he wouldn't be able to hide that from his angel, who would not look kindly on that level of unlawfulness. So a scholarship was necessary. Hell, a scholarship was paramount. So he really needed to concentrate on the fucking test instead of the red-headed dude next to him who kept fucking looking at him when he trying to look at the paper that could decide his future.

When the administrator called an end to the test, he looked down to see that everything had been filled in in his messy handwriting, but he was sketchy on remembering how it got there. His head was echoing and pounding in that expanded way he was starting to get used to and when the hell did he fill in the fucking test?

When he got home that evening, Jess was in the kitchen. "How'd it go Baby?" she asked eagerly, reaching up to kiss his cheek and give him a concerned once over.

"I don't know, it was all kind of a blur," he answered truthfully.

"You did great, I know it. All those late nights you put in studying? You did great."

"I hope so."

But that was all yesterday, and he was getting seriously desensitized to the pills now. He was taking twice as much as he used to, and that wasn't cutting it anymore, so he upped it to three times what he took. The first couple of days he was a wreck, and was grateful that Jess was working overtime at the restaurant because Amber had landed a small role on some soap opera – 'Turning Worlds' – or something, and she was covering for her. Jess wasn't in a great mood anyway as she was certain she bombed the job interview across town. She was pretty bummed out and took extra shifts to keep herself busy – which suited him fine because he was freaking stratospheric.

(- - Paranoid Freak, by The Trews - -)

The paranoia was getting worse though. Everywhere he went, people were looking at him and he hated it. He wanted to shout at them to stop staring at him, but knew that would draw even more attention so he tried to blend in better. He hunched more while he walked so he wouldn't look so tall, and he kept his nose in a book while on the bus to and from work every day so that no one would notice the dilated pupils and the black rings under his eyes. The books he didn't read because he was having difficulty focusing on the words with his thoughts in a thousand different directions like they were, but for some reason he was absorbing what was there – just like the last bit of school where things were just in his head and he had no idea where they came from.

_Keep your head down and blend in…_

Probably the only useful bit of information he'd ever gotten from his dad that he could use right now. And if the Skid at the back of the bus didn't stop looking at him he was gonna snap…

_Deep breathing Sam_, he coached himself. _No one is looking at you, well… they are… but you can't do shit about it so stop clenching your fucking fist. Look, just two more blocks until your stop. You can do this. Just hold it to-fucking-gether for two more blocks._

He nearly fell off the bus in his hurry to get free. He caught the Skid at the back raising an eyebrow in alarm in his direction, and he was almost tempted to charge back on the bus and break dude's face for him.

_Get a fucking grip Winchester!_

One deep breath, then another and another.

_There, now walk the three blocks to work and get this done. Blend. The fuck. In._

He took over Cliff's seat, letting the paunchy, shiny-headed guy clock out and did his best to ignore the concerned look the guy gave him. He liked Cliff. Cliff was a good guy… he just didn't need anyone looking all concerned for him at the moment.

He did his rounds, he watched the TV without really watching it, he read his book without really reading it, and he went home to an empty apartment in the morning.

Things went on like this for another week with only a couple hours of sleep scattered here and there. Every time he got tired he would just pop another White Beauty until he succumbed to needing an hour nap. He was so out of it, that if he dreamt anything consequential, he didn't know it. He would just wake up and feel really disorientated until he could take another pill and start flying again.

* * *

Mid June, 2005

He didn't recognize where he was.

It was bright and sunny, it was a crowded street, there were palm trees in the distance and salt water on the air, so California seemed like a logical state to be in, which was good to know when you don't know where you are and your chest seems like it's going to explode. So knowing what state he was in was fucking _awesome_.

He turned on the spot wildly, trying to read a sign or see a building that would indicate to him where he was. People milled past him like he wasn't even there, and how do you ignore a giant whirling around like a lunatic in the middle of a busy sidewalk? Was he dreaming? Was this something to do with the Shadowman? Where the fuck was he?!

"Hey!" he shouted randomly at a guy in a gray suit. Normally he wouldn't try to draw attention to himself but he was freaked and this deep, insistent panic had him in its grip and he felt like he couldn't _breathe_. Suit-dude ignored him so he chased down a woman in jeans and a tank top. "Hey!" he called to her but got no response there either.

_No one can hear me._

He started running up the sidewalk, dodging people as he ran because he really didn't want to see if he would knock them down or pass through them like a ghost cuz that would be freak-tastic and his heart couldn't handle that shit right now.

"Somebody!" he called out, frantic because no one could hear him.

Then he saw her.

She was small – not just short but painfully thin as well. She had shoulder length dark hair and a large forehead and giant eyes and she was looking at him in fear. And as soon as she realized that he noticed her looking at him, she turned and hurried up the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

"Hey!" he shouted, starting to hurry after her because she was the only one to react to him shouting like a maniac. "Hey you! Wait up!"

But the girl, who looked like she might be about his age, just tucked her head down and picked up her pace. She turned abruptly and wrenched open a heavy door to a used book store one-handed as her other arm was in a sling.

"Hey!" he called angrily as he reached for the door before she could disappear inside it. She spun around and stepped back to put a little more space between them. There wasn't much space to be had as he pretty nearly had the small woman pinned between himself and the wall to the store. "Who are you? What's going on?" he demanded, noticing a large bandage on her forehead beneath the thick, side-swept bangs

"Go away," she hissed. "Leave me alone."

"Not 'til you tell me what's happening. Why can't anyone see me but you can? Is this some sort of a messed up dream?"

She scoffed at him at that, "A dream? You think this is a dream? Is that some sort of joke?"

"This is real? Where are we?"

"Stop. Just stop it," she glared at him. "Don't pretend you don't know."

"Know what?" he was beyond frustrated. "If you know what's going on, then tell me."

"Uh-uh," she shook her head. "I'm not falling for the little-boy-lost routine. You tell your boss to fuck off and leave me alone."

"My boss? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid – I'm not buying it. You know exactly who I'm talking about."

Sam didn't miss her shudder as she spoke and hesitantly he asked, "The Shadowman?"

"Is that what you call him?" she sneered.

He felt his stomach drop at her recognition of his nightmare. Did the Shadowman haunt her as well? What was he and what did he want?

"What do you call him?" he whispered, fear and dread pulling at him and it seemed to soften her a bit.

"Satan," she breathed.

"Satan isn't real." It was an automatic response to something like that. Jess and her family believed in God and heaven and angels, but they didn't believe in hell or Satan. He could quite literally rock their beliefs to their very foundations with all that he knew – that hell was indeed real, that demons were real and incredibly dangerous. Lucifer was another story though. There was no way that the Big Bad was real. Otherwise, the planet would be a steaming pile of ash. Things were bleak with all the global warming talk going around and all, but apocalyptic? No. Not even close.

"Then why are you here?"

"I don't know. I don't even know where we are."

A dark laugh escaped her, "Don't even think of asking me where I am. You'll just go back to the boss and tell him where I am so he can get me."

"But why? Why does he want you? Why does he want me?"

"He's using you," she hissed at him. "And I won't let you use me." She reached for the door handle and pulled it open. Darting inside the bookstore, she slammed the heavy door on Sam's fingers as he reached for it.

The pain shot up his arm like a bullet, as did the rest of him.

He was bolt-upright in his bed, in his apartment… chest heaving and clutching his fingers. There was no pain – not even a tingle. The latest dream wasn't alleyway/beast scary, but it was alarming in its realness. That girl had been scared, and he wondered who she was and why he was dreaming of her. She was a figment of his imagination surely, a trick of the Shadowman to lull him into some sort of trap or complacency since he hadn't been sleeping the last few weeks for the real nightmares to get him. But whatever the Shadowman's new plan of attack was, it wasn't gonna work. This frightened girl wasn't any more real than Dead-Dean in Dreamland and he was not about to be duped by the Shadowman.

He leaned over the side of the bed for his book-bag and fumbled around inside for the bottle of Alan's pills. Popping one in his mouth, he threw back the blankets and got up.

_Whatever you're playing at Asshole, it isn't gonna work_.

* * *

Late June, 2005

He didn't really know who he was anymore. It was hard to tell what day it was, his head always hurt, he felt like there were miners digging in his brain, and there was still all this _space_ in there. His thoughts echoed around in there, beating off the inside of his cranium to rocket around his skull again and again. And things were a little strained between him and Jess. It wasn't as if they saw each other much, much as that was by his design, but when they were together, things were a little... off.

And the pills weren't working as good anymore.

They _really_ weren't working as good anymore.

He was already up to five pills a day, and he knew that was too high to start with, let alone adding onto that count would cause some serious damage to him. The amounts of the drug he's taken already should, by all rights, have already landed him in the hospital, so upping the dosage again had him on a sharp precipice with temptation on one side, and alarm for his safety on the other. He wanted the safety of wakefulness, but he didn't want to end up some vegetable on a gurney with tubes all over him.

The dreams of the dark haired girl were coming everyday now. He just couldn't stay awake any longer and when he drifted off, she was always there. He was still in the unknown city, and she had resigned to ignoring him. He would talk a mile a minute at her, and she would pretend he didn't exist. And he felt like he was compelled to follow her, so he was like a stray dog in the way he trailed along in her wake. He would follow her into stores, into buildings, and all the signs that were on these buildings were messed up like a dyslexic's nightmare so that he couldn't read them – which reinforced his '_this is just a screwed up dream_' theory because reading was done with one side of the brain, while dreaming was done with the other and you can't really read in dreams. So this chick was a figment of his imagination, and he was stuck in Dreamland with her instead of the beast or the Shadowman, and whatever the point of this was, he didn't know. But the strange chick ignoring him was a hell of a lot better than being chased down alleyways.

One morning after work, too tired and strung out to even think about staying awake, he fell into his bed fully clothed and on top of the covers. His face was mashed into the mattress, and he was literally asleep before he even closed his eyes.

He was following her down a sidewalk. The weather was a little gray, there was the threat of rain on the horizon and the smell of ozone on the air. He exaggeratedly sang the song "Eyes of a Stranger" by the Payola$ to see if he could get a reaction out of her out of pure annoyance - much like Swayze had sang Henry the Eigth to Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost so that she would help him just to shut him up. Her jaw clenched a bit but that was it. So he continued to sing the song in that enthusiastic way you did when you were six sheets to the wind and how the hell do you feel strung out even while you're dreaming?

She walked into an office building, past several secretaries with name plates that he couldn't read, up a set of stairs and past more receptionists. She was told to wait and he took the seat across from her.

"Where are we today?" he asked her. She only crossed her legs and jiggled her foot impatiently.

"What are we doing here? What's your name? What city are we in? Why am I dreaming of you? Who are you? What do you know of the Shadowman?" He asked the same questions over and over again and never got a response.

"Melissa?" the receptionist called from her desk, "the doctor will see you now."

_Finally! Melissa. Okay. A name is good._

So this was a doctor's visit was it? He hoped he wasn't going to have to witness something he didn't want to see and he wondered if he would be able to look in a corner instead of at whatever Doctor McDreamy was gonna do to her.

He followed her into a tastefully decorated room, with a living room set, nice armchairs, and a coffee table. Apparently, this wasn't the kind of doctor he was expecting. Looks like Melissa was seeing a shrink.

"Good morning Melissa," a portly balding man spoke in a refined Boston accent as he approached her with a mug of coffee and set it on the coffee table.

"Hey Doc," she answered, tossing her purse on the floor by the leather armchair and flopping into it. Tucking her feet under her body and curling up on the arm of the chair, she pushed her thick bangs off to the side of her big forehead. Sam could see the bandage had been removed, and the sling she'd stopped wearing a few dreams before.

"How's the arm?" he nodded towards the appendage in question.

"Twinges a bit here and there, but otherwise it's a whole lot better." She leaned forward and wrapped her hands around the mug of coffee before settling back in the armchair.

Sam was listening to their chit-chat while examining the room and looking for anything that would tell him where they were or what was going on. There was a newspaper on the doctor's desk, but it was all jumbled and he couldn't read anything on it. Same with all the framed degrees on the wall, nothing made any sense to him.

The shrink took a seat in the chair opposite her and settled in with his own mug and a notebook. "So what would you like to discuss today Melissa?"

"It's Mel, Doc," she rolled her eyes as she took a sip of the coffee and closed her eyes in appreciation.

"Forgive me, I keep forgetting."

"Bull," she snorted, "you just think you can solve all my problems by trying to re-direct blame on my reasons for preferring my nick-name over my real one – or some shit like that."

The shrink actually chuckled at her. "Is that why you think you're here? To learn to re-direct blame?"

"Come on Doc," she whined, "I don't feel like being analyzed today."

"Or any other day for that matter."

"My mother thinks that coming here will help me. I want her off my back."

"And that's the only reason why you come here?"

"Well _I_ certainly don't think you can help me. You are woefully under-qualified."

"Maybe I could help if you told me what was wrong..."

"Yeah. Thanks but no thanks Doc."

"Well then, how about we discuss Amanda?"

"How about we don't." There was a dangerous edge to her voice when she said it and it piqued his interest slightly.

"You carry a lot of guilt around with you Mel. If you would just learn to accept that the accident was just an accident..."

"It was my fault!" she shot back at him and Sam turned to stare at the pair of them from his spot near an impressive looking bookcase. Her face was twisted and her big eyes were narrowed into slits as she hissed. "It was all my fault and people _died_."

"Car accidents happen hourly in this country Mel. There is a car accident every second some place in the world."

'Yeah, well I didn't cause those ones."

"And you're not at fault for the one you were in. You weren't drinking, you weren't on drugs... it was one of those things that happen and all you have to do is learn to let go and move on."

"Well gee Doc, that's all I have to do? That sounds swell. Wow, I feel better already. You really earned that steep hourly fee today."

"You're being more sarcastic than usual today, any particular reason why you're deflecting so much?"

Sam actually caught her glance at him warily before answering the shrink, "No."

Apparently, the doc didn't miss the eye flick either. "Why did you look over there for?"

"It's nothing."

"I don't believe you. Is it your demon again? The one that you said caused the accident? The one that haunts you?"

Sam actually strode up to her and stared down at her where she was still curled up against the arm of the chair. She was staring back at him with dark, fathomless eyes that were full of fear as she whispered to him rather than the doctor, "No. He's a different one."

"Another apparition that comes to you?" the doc asked with feigned interest. Sam ignored the smarmy shrink, so did Mel as the two of them stared at each other, and Sam wondered if his eyes showed the same fear that hers did. "Mel? You have another apparition that appears to you?"

"Yes," she breathed, big dark eyes bored into his.

"Is this one evil as well?"

"I-I don't know... he follows me and then he just disappears."

"What does he want?"

"I don't know."

"Have you asked him?"

"What do you want?" she whispered.

"It's here?" the doc's eyebrows shot up as he looked towards where she was looking which was right beside the arm of her chair.

"He's right there."

"Mel... Why is he haunting us? What does he want?" Sam crouched by her chair and placed a hand on top of hers.

"I don't know."

"What did he do to you?"

"He whispers, he laughs, and he tells me he has plans for me," she breathed.

"What accident are you talking about?"

Sam didn't get an answer though as the shrink interrupted. "Melissa," the doctor sighed, "this isn't healthy. There is no one there and I can't allow you to foster this delusion of yours."

"No one there?" she hissed at the shrink and gestured wildly at Sam. "He's six and a half feet tall and he's two feet from you you bloated pompous quack!"

"Really Melissa – name calling? There is no one there and you need to accept the fact that the accident you were in wasn't your fault and you need to stop feeding this delusion of yours of demons following you."

"And _that_ is why you can't help me Doc," she snarled. "You're as blind as you are ignorant and completely unable to understand that there are things out there that you can't explain away. That there are scores of things out there that would make you piss yourself in fear but that don't show up in any of those scientific, pompous magazines you're so fond of."

"I don't believe in demons Melissa," Doc leaned forward in his chair to look her in the eyes.

"Well they sure as hell believe in me," she shot back, picking up her purse and striding for the door with Sam following in her wake, his expanded head-space muddled with the bits he had learned and wondering if he'd be able to piece anything together.

The dream dissolved when she slammed the door to his office.

* * *

"Baby, you look horrible," Jess commented as she came into the kitchen to find him there nursing a cup of coffee. She had Nina and Amber with her and he vaguely remembered her telling him that the three of them were going out to help Nina pick out her wedding flowers.

_Fuck, the wedding is only two months away_.

He tried to keep his game-face together. Nina and Amber were there and the last thing he needed was Nina getting a good look at him and putting two and two together and realizing that he was tripping half the time. Luckily she was too busy discussing the flower arrangements with Amber to pay too much attention to him.

"Yeah, I didn't get too much sleep today. I think old Mrs. Esteban upstairs had her grand-kids with her today or something. What a racket."

"You poor baby," Jess kissed the top of his head in passing and let her fingers trail across his hair. He leaned into the touch like it was life support and his stomach clenched when she drifted past him. He wished Nina and Amber would take off – he just wanted to hold his angel and forget about life for awhile. "I'll make you something to eat before I leave, 'kay?"

"You're leaving?" he sat up straighter, brows knit together and trying to remember her telling him anything last night before he left for work.

"Yeah, remember? I told you about it a few days ago? I'm going to L.A. with Amber tonight. She's filming on Monday and told me she could get me in this weekend for a tour of the studio, so we're going to stay with her cousin Juanita and we're going to do some shopping and stuff."

_Did she tell me that?_

"When are you coming home?" he asked instead.

"I'll be back on Sunday," she flitted to the fridge and pulled some eggs and milk and cheese out.

"Don't worry Sam," Amber smiled as Jess dropped some bread in the toaster for him. "I'll watch my Chika's back."

"Why? Are you going drinking?"

"Yeah, Amber is taking me to a club and there are going to be some of the cast members from the show there," her eyes were glowing with excitement and his gut churned at the thought of not having her to himself tonight like he'd hoped. But he couldn't ask her to stay when she'd apparently told him days ago, and he couldn't ask her to stay when she was so excited to be going. "I've never been to a club in L.A." she grinned as she whisked the eggs and milk together and nudged the cheese and a knife towards Amber to slice for her. Nina had wandered into the living room and was talking into her cell phone to Dave.

"We're going to have so much fun Jess," the dark-haired beauty smiled as she picked up the knife and started slicing, popping a piece into her own mouth as she did it. "I'm taking her to this place," Amber spoke to him as she and Jess worked in tandem making him a three o'clock brunch, "where they actually have a list at the door. Can you believe it? You think that only happens in the movies but they exist and our names are on the list and we'll be hob-knobbing with the rich and famous."

"Make sure she doesn't get swept off her feet by Ryan Reynolds or Paul Walker or something then, okay?" he bargained with her. "Kick him in the jewels with those spiky heels of yours."

"Hey!" Jess nudged him in the shoulder as she passed by with a hot skillet full of scrambled eggs and reached for the cheese that her best friend had cut for her. "Like Paul Walker would be able to keep me away from you."

"Besides Sam," Amber grinned mischievously, "You got something Ole Paulie doesn't have."

"What's that? A nifty uniform and a massive amount of student dept?" he offered, trying to keep up with the banter when all he could focus on was that Jess was leaving for the weekend and he wanted to just go lie down with her and breath in the scent of her shampoo.

"No Dummy," Amber smirked and winked at him, "an ass you could bounce a quarter off of."

"Amber!" Jess admonished her but it was all lost on the giggling that was leaking out and making her shoulders shake. Jess slid a plate in front of him and reached into a drawer for a fork for him.

"Ughh!" Amber looked at the plate and curled her lip a little. "Chika – is that salsa from a _jar_?"

"Shut up!" she shot back, still giggling. "Not all of us have mothers that make absolutely everything from scratch."

"No, but fresh-homemade is so much better. And I know you know how to make it because Mama taught you at the restaurant."

"She might have taught me the salsa recipe, but she's got that Tamale recipe on lock down.

"You kidding? She'll probably never tell me how to make them," Amber rolled her dark eyes.

"That's cuz you have a big mouth," Jess flicked a small shred of cheese at her. "You know she taught your sister Louisa. Besides, you're on your way to being a big TV star, what do you need with a Tamale recipe when soon you'll have maids and butlers and trainers that will frown at you if you eat anything more substantial than a leaf of lettuce?"

"If I get some whiny douchebag telling me not to eat, I'll purposely gain ten pounds and sit there off set eating chocolate cake right there in front of him."

"As if," Jess rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I'll be right back, I have to grab a few things before we head out. Nina?" she called out to her sister who was still in the living room on her phone.

"What?" she called back.

"We're out of here in ten minutes. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Jess left the kitchen and headed for their room. He could hear her opening and shutting drawers and the closet door and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair when he caught Amber looking at him out of the corners of his eyes.

"You don't look so hot Gringo."

He pushed his food around on his plate a bit with the fork, not making eye contact with her. It had been a few hours since his last fix, but Amber didn't look at him in the same way that Jess did – clouded and foggy with love – and Amber wasn't as distracted with wedding plans like the others were.

"Night shifts are a bitch," he muttered, making an effort to put some of the eggs in his mouth. He was saved by any further questioning by Nina bustling back into the kitchen, snapping her phone shut and snatching a piece of toast off his plate.

"I'm starved," she mumbled around a mouthful of food. She actually reached for another slice and he just pushed the whole plate towards her. She snatched it up and leaned against the counter, rummaging around in the cutlery drawer for a new fork and started digging into the food.

Amber arched a dark eyebrow at her, "Hungry Nina?"

"I could smell them cooking from the living room and my mouth just started watering," she offered, still piling scrambled eggs into her mouth and biting off a chunk of toast.

"Really?" Amber asked, a bemused expression on her beautiful face. "That been going on a lot lately?"

"What are you smirking about?" she queried. Amber gave a pointed look at Nina's stomach and Jess's sister actually blanched a bit. She set the near empty plate on the counter and started counting something on her fingers. She looked up with an almost comical look on her face, "Oh my God," she breathed. "I've been so wrapped up in the wedding I wasn't paying attention..."

"You might want to make a stop at the drug store on the way home Sugar," Amber giggled.

An angelic smile ghosted across Nina's face before she shook her head. "You can't tell anyone until I know for sure," she pointed her finger at both of them.

"It's your news to tell Neen," Amber smirked, trying to bite down her smile before Jessica came back out in the room and started demanding to know what was going on.

He pushed away from the table and snatched up his mug of coffee. Jessica was ecstatic that she was going to be the Maid of Honor in her sister's wedding. She was going to be over the moon when she found out she was going to be an aunt too.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 11

Late June, 2005

Sam was just wandering aimlessly around the apartment, bored and strung out. He didn't want to go out, he didn't want to stay in, and he definitely didn't want to call his brother. Nope. Didn't want to call Dean. At. All. That was why he had taken his cell phone and buried it in the bottom of his book-bag, so that the feelings of not wanting to talk to Dean wouldn't be tempted to not call him.

_Yup. Definitely too many pills tonight_, he scrubbed his hand over his face.

He missed Jess. He wished she were here and was tempted to call her on her cell but he didn't want to intrude on her big weekend out. She was having fun and he didn't want to bring her down just because he was lonely and lost and he didn't know what to do with himself right now. She'd only left a couple hours ago for Christ's sake. Surely he could think of something to occupy himself for the evening.

So he booted up the laptop he'd been neglecting because every time he looked at it lately, all he could think about was the proud look on Dean's face the day he gave it to him. He surfed dispassionately around on the internet for awhile, played a few rousing games of solitaire, checked his e-mail that was woefully empty except for a couple funny ones from Luis which he read several times just to remind himself that there was a world out there beyond the walls of his apartment, wrote a quick note back to the guy to let him know that he was still alive because he couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to his friend. Then he wrote a short note to Jessica, knowing that she would be way too busy and having too much fun to check her e-mail while she was in LA. It wasn't any great work of literary mastery or poetic prose, just a short note saying that he missed her and that he hoped she was having fun and he'd see her when she got home on Sunday, and signed it '_Love Sam_.'

He flipped off the laptop, popped another two pills, turned on the TV, and sunk into the sofa, flipping through the channels until he could find an action flick to keep him occupied. He stopped when he came to 'Die Hard'. Dean loved that movie – always saying the line 'Yippe-kai-yay Motherfucker' with a happy grin on his face like it was Pulitzer quality writing. Endlessly extolling the virtues of the first movie over the others, and scoffing at the idea that they'd make a fourth movie and risk ruining the franchise. Of course, he was the same way when it came to the Indiana Jones movies. All the great action stars were getting on in years and all they were getting to replace them were over-buffed, over-rated dancing queens and has-been wrestlers.

He shook his head, trying to push his brother out of his thoughts without much success as he settled into the sofa cushions and watched Bruce Willis crawling through ductwork that in real life would never support the weight of a grown man. Ghostly echoes of his brother's laughter was ringing in his head…

* * *

It was dark, where ever he was. He could smell trees, and moist earth, and damp bracken underfoot. He glanced up and saw a familiar figure up ahead on a thin sliver of trail.

"Mel!" he shouted, starting up a jog to catch up with the diminutive young woman. She didn't turn, she seemed to speed up her hike so he hurried up the pace as well. "Mel! Wait up!"

"Go away!" she yelled back, her voice rough and harsh and thick with tears.

"Stop would ya?" he caught up to her easily, his long legs eating up the distance and his obviously better attuned senses and woods experience. She was wearing sandals – on a trail in the woods for fuck's sakes.

"Go. Away." she insisted, picking up her precarious pace even more and stumbling on the protruding roots in the path. "Just leave me alone."

"What are you doing up here?" he asked, falling into step behind her. She tossed him a baleful look over her shoulder and stumbled again. Sam shot an arm out and caught her elbow before she could fall flat on her face. She yanked her arm out of his grasp with a wince and he realized he had grabbed the one that had been in a sling only several days before. "Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your bad arm."

"Will you please just go away?" she begged, tears glistening in the faint moonlight that was filtering down through the canopy.

"Full moon tonight," he whispered distractedly. "Bad night to be in the woods... all sorts of badies out on the full moon."

"A werewolf is the least of my problems at the moment. Actually, if a werewolf were to attack me right now, that would probably be a good thing."

"What do you know about werewolves, Mel?" he asked idly, wanting to keep her talking as she seemed really off right now. Not just upset because she was blatantly upset about something. No, she seemed like there was something else wrong, like she was on drugs or drunk or something. But then again, she knew the Shadowman too, and look what he turned himself into just to avoid further encounters with that father of all evils waiting for him like his own personal version of Freddy Krueger.

"Only what I read about them on the internet," she huffed as she continued her way up the path, and he had to stop and think about what they had been talking about because everything was a little fuzzy upstairs right now.

"Well, if a werewolf bites you, there's no cure. The only thing left to do is a silver bullet in the heart to end the curse."

"Look who's Mr. Encarta tonight," she wheezed, picking her way along in those silly sandals.

"Would you believe me if I told you I've hunted werewolves?"

"No."

"Well I have – with my father and brother. Werewolves, spirits, ghosts – just about everything that you thought wasn't real is, and I've hunted them."

"Then why is your '_Shadowman_' still on the grid Rambo? Why haven't you killed him and set us free?"

"I don't even know what he is," he admitted, grabbing her by the right elbow this time and helping her up a crag of rocks that appeared out of nowhere as the path got steeper.

"Will you please stop following me? I came here to be alone."

"I don't know if I could walk away if I tried. It feels like I'm tied to you somehow. You still haven't even told me where we are."

"That's because I still don't trust you."

"I don't work for the Shadowman, Mel," he insisted softly. "He haunts me too."

"I don't care. And I don't care what he does to you."

"He made me think I killed my brother, and then he laughed at me. What did he do to you?"

"He nearly killed me and got several other people dead in the process. Do you know what it's like knowing that other people's deaths are on your head?"

"Actually, I do," he admitted. "Those hunts I've been on with my family... they didn't always end well for the victims. We couldn't always save them."

"You couldn't save them, you can't save yourself, and you can't kill the devil. Why bother anymore, right?"

"What are you talking about Mel?" he could feel apprehension and dread building in his gut. The '_why bother anymore_' was rebounding in his skull and making his stomach churn.

But she didn't answer him. Instead, she stopped and turned off the path and walked a few steps into the trees where she stopped abruptly. There in front of them,was a huge lake glinting silvery black in the moonlight. It was far below them, they seemed to be on a cliff of sorts, and he could smell the minerals in the lake water even from this high up.

"Where are we Mel?"

She crouched near the edge of the cliff, picked up a few pebbles and tossed them over the edge. "My father used to bring me up here when I was little. There's a really nice view of the lake and the falls from further up the trail, but we always stopped here for a rest. The trail gets really steep after this part."

"He used to bring you up here? You don't come here with him anymore?" he approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her but not wanting to get too close to the rim himself cuz she was right on the fucking edge and a good gust of breeze or an ill-timed sneeze would send her over.

"He died seven years ago," she said simply, tossing another couple pebbles over the lip of rock. "He was in construction, and he fell from a building he was working on."

"I'm sorry. I lost a parent too... my mom in a fire when I was a baby."

"My dad was special," she continued softly, ignoring him. "He always came home from work whistling, swinging his lunch box and he'd always toss me up in the air and catch me on the way back down. And it didn't matter that he worked fourteen hour days, he always read me a story before bed, and sometimes he would fall asleep while he was reading it..."

She seemed to be speaking more to herself than to him, idly tossing more pebbles over the edge and it was freaking him out how calm she was being now, considering how she had clearly been crying before he popped into Dreamland.

"...And every summer we would go to Oregon to visit my grandparents. It always rained while we were there, but he was so happy to be home, and I was just so happy to be there with him that I'd just overlook it and enjoy it as best as I could."

"What about your mom?" he asked, inching closer to the edge and her. "Didn't she go with you?"

"They divorced when I was nine," she whispered. "It was really hard on me, but my dad still came over every night to read me a story," she looked up and an almost childish smile crossed her face. "He loved me so much..." she breathed, "I wish he were here now, I think he'd believe me about the monster – more than my mom does. She thinks I'm crazy."

"What have you told her? When did he start coming to you?"

"A couple months ago... in March. I told my mom that I was having these crazy nightmares and she accused me of being on drugs." Mel rolled her eyes at that one. "I wasn't on them before, but I sure as hell tried them after."

"I'm taking Bennies," he admitted, inching forward some more and getting a good glimpse over the edge for his trouble. Steep and rocky and the bottom was a long way down.

"I tried those too. They didn't work for long though."

"No. They're not working so good for me anymore either."

"Hate to tell you, but there's nothing you can do. It will only get worse and then he'll be there again."

"Can you tell me something Mel?"

"What?"

"Are you dreaming right now too? Are we in each other's dreams?"

She shook her head sadly, "No. I'm awake right now. Every time you've come to me, I've been awake."

"I'm asleep – I think."

"I think you are as well. Funny, but when I dream, there's never anyone else there but the devil. Well... the devil and his hellcat."

"Does he chase you through an endless brick alleyway?"

"No. It's the woods. These woods actually." Her voice was too bland and nonchalant to not raise the hairs on the back of his neck and make his skin go clammy. "And I always end up here…"

"Then why are you here? Aren't you afraid?"

"Terrified. And tired. I'm just so fucking tired of being afraid... I want it to be over."

A chill ran up and down his spine at the way she said that, _I want it to be over..._

"Come away from the edge Mel. Please?" he held a hand out towards her, and her precarious perch on the lip of the cliff.

She shook her head and gave him a sad smile. "I can't do that and you know it. I think you've known it ever since you popped in here tonight."

"No. I didn't know but I felt like there was something wrong with you tonight. Please Mel. Come away from the edge." He didn't know what would happen to him if she died while he was in this dream. It felt like her dying would be the end of the world, and maybe Dreamland would implode around her. That in itself wouldn't be so bad, but he didn't know what would happen to him while he was stuck here and she died. Would he survive? Would he make it out and see his angel again? Would he be trapped here in Dreamland forever? All of these were big ifs, and he didn't want to take a chance on any of them.

So he begged her again, "Please Mel?" he held his hand out to her again and gave her the puppy dog eyes that Dean had always teased him about. The ones that his brother said could get him off of a murder conviction or get any tidbit of information out of any little old lady who had a soft spot for giant, shaggy-haired boys.

"You sound like you actually care about me," she sounded bemused at the idea as she smiled wanly.

"I do. I do care Mel. Please... just come away from the edge. We can figure something out. I think we can stop him if we work together... just please... don't do this."

"I think... I think that this is why he's been sending you to me," she whispered. "He knew he was pushing me too far, and then the accident... He sent you to try and stop me."

"I don't know why I'm here Mel. But giving up isn't the way. Please, come back and we'll find a way to stop him... to get our lives back."

"He's watching us you know," she whispered as she picked up a large flat stone and picked up a smaller one. She wrote something on the larger rock by scratching the smaller one over the surface, leaving spidery letters that were all jumbled and incomprehensible. She flipped the large stone over, written side down, and gave it an affectionate pat. She tossed the writing rock over the edge before looking at him again.

"Come with me Mel," he held his hand out to her, pleading and feeling his eyes start to water.

She shook her head at him again, giant eyes reflecting the full moon above and making her dark hair appear a silvery blue color. "If you were smart, you'd follow me down," she breathed, a single tear slipping down her pale cheek and Sam could feel hot tears burning behind his eyes too.

"Mel..."

"Those people are dead because of me. Even if we do stop him, it won't bring them back. I can't look myself in the mirror for another sixty years, knowing that they died because of me."

"They died because of the Shadowman and you know it!" he hissed, wishing for the hundredth time he knew what accident she was talking about, but considering the circumstances at the moment, all he really needed to know right now was how to get her away from the edge of the cliff.

"You see," she whispered, tears running down her cheek fully now. "You do work for him. He wants me alive, and you're trying to stop me from doing this. He's using you and I won't let you use me," she repeated the same line she told him that very first time he'd dreamt of her outside that bookstore.

"Don't do this," he pleaded, tears burning hotly as they welled up and spilled forth.

"Maybe you should look away..."

"I can help you. I know I can if you let me."

"There's no help for me. And there's no help for you if he wants you bad enough. Eventually, you'll see that I'm right and you'll come here yourself."

"I could never... It would hurt too many people. My girlfriend... my brother... My dad and I don't get along, but it would kill him if I took my own life."

"Can I ask you something?" she asked in a small, far-away voice.

"Anything," he inched forward a bit more, almost in reach of her arm and he was going to grab her and make her safe and then make her tell him everything he wanted to know so they could off the evil sonofabitch ruining their lives once and for all.

"If you manage to stop the Shadowman... tell him he couldn't have me. Make him understand that I would never be his – that my life was mine to do with what I wanted. Tell him that my death was _my_ choosing, and not his."

"Mel... please..."

But it was too late. She let herself slip over the edge of rock with an almost serene smile on her face. He leapt for her, his hand shooting out to try and grab her, but he was too late. He caught himself on a shrub before he could fall over the edge as well, and he could see her as she rapidly got smaller and smaller as she neared the base of the cliff and the water below – her arms spread wide as if waiting to embrace the ground racing to meet her.

His hand was still out-stretched when he shot bolt up-right on his living room sofa, screaming 'NO!' and tears coursing down his cheeks.

* * *

Saturday was like a walking nightmare. He kept telling himself that the dream wasn't real. Just like how Dean didn't really die in Dreamland, Mel wasn't dead at the bottom of a cliff overlooking a lake God-knows-where – and that was if she was even truly real – which he'd never been too sure on. But doubt plagued him all day, following him like a bad smell and nagging at the back of his brain that shit was really bad right now and he was being too stupid – that he'd been neglecting his instincts and letting the pills and the amount of room in his brain lull him into a false confidence.

Shit wasn't right.

He considered going out, but that would include getting dressed, and facing people in public that would be watching him like a hawk because he knew that he looked like hell. And considering how used he was getting to his appearance lately, sunken eyes and hollow cheeks – that was really saying something. So staying in was the only option he really had, because if he didn't already have '_freak_' stamped on his marquee forehead, looking like death warmed over definitely would draw unwanted attention and the twitchy paranoia gnawing on the gray matter definitely didn't want that.

And he kept his cell phone tucked away into the bottom of his book bag because he definitely wasn't calling his brother right now. Knowing Dean, the second he heard his cracked and broken voice, he'd come tearing across the country to get him, regardless of how they parted the last time they were in the same room. And that image, of Dean slamming into his dorm room wall and of himself towering over him wanting to hit him again... made his stomach lurch and there just wasn't anything in there to come up anyway. He tried to think of the last thing he ate, and realized it was the couple of nibbles of egg that Jess had made him the afternoon before that pregnancy starved Nina had snatched away from him. So he headed into the kitchen and made himself some toast and poured some milk because he needed to do _something_ to keep the slide show in his brain at bay cuz he was seeing Dean on the ground in his dorm, and Mel flying over the cliff, and Dean dead and battered on the cavern floor and the Shadowman wreathed in smoke and mist and laughing that gut wrenching laugh...

_Get a grip Sam!_

He forced down a whole three bites of toast before he started gagging, and just poured the milk down the sink because he knew he'd never get it down anyway.

The beast stalking him in the black alleyway, Mel's huge frightened eyes and the single tear glistening like molten silver in the moonlight...

_Get. A. Fucking. Grip!!_

_'Tell him he could never have me...'_ her voice echoed in his brain.

_No. Go away._

_'Tell him it was my life...'_

_Please stop, _he begged the memory of her voice in his head.

_'My death was my choice...'_

He fell to his knees and cradled his head in his hands, pushing his palms into his eyes as if pushing the orbs back into the pink mass of uselessness in his skull would stop the images running rampant in his mind's eye.

_'If you were smart, you'd follow me down...'_

_Oh fuck! _His stomach lurched and rebelled.

He ran for the bathroom and threw up the meager amount of food in his stomach. He hunched over the bowl, gripping the sides and dry heaving until his vision went blurry then gray and then black as he eventually passed out.

* * *

He awoke what must have been hours later, if the late afternoon glint of the sun was anything to go by. He had managed to wedge himself into the space between the toilet and the tub, and it took a minute for his groggy, fuzzy brain to figure out why his bed was so hard and why he couldn't roll over. When he pried open glued together lids, it was to a face full of white porcelain and a pain in his skull so fierce he thought it must have split open. He gingerly felt the back of his head after he freed himself out of his porcelain prison, relieved when he didn't find any lumps or oozing gashes. He closed his eyes again and scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to find the energy to stand up and walk out of the bathroom – maybe take a shower because the smell coming off himself was nauseating. Brushing his teeth sounded like a good idea too cuz his mouth tasted like mung.

He stood on shaky legs, a hand outstretched to the tiled wall for support as he shuffled forward towards the sink. He splashed ice-cold water on his face, rinsed his mouth, and when his stomach didn't protest the water he sipped down, he grabbed his tooth brush and got the god-awful taste of vomit out of his mouth.

His own odor was still wafting up to him and making his gut curdle, so he stripped off his t-shirt and still holding the wall for support, wrenched on the faucet in the shower and cranked on the heat. He dropped his jeans, stumbled a bit when his feet got caught in the legs when he tried to step out of them, and he got a good, unwanted view of himself in the mirror. It wasn't just his cheeks that were sunken and thin, he was like that everywhere. He turned sideways, left and right and studying himself in his shorts as if it were the first time he was seeing himself – and to be honest – it kinda was. He ran a hand up his stomach, wincing as his fingers ran over protruding ribs like they were piano keys. He looked sick, and he had to do something about that. There was no way that Jess hadn't noticed any of this, and he had to do something before it got a hell of a lot worse and she started asking questions. He could only use the '_night shifts are hell_' bit for so long before she demanded that he find other work for no other reason than to stop his declining health.

He sighed, yanked a towel off the rod next to him – not caring that it was dirty – and shucked his shorts making sure not to look in the mirror again before pulling the shower curtain shut around him.

The hot water felt good. Really good actually. He leaned his face into the spray and let the water ease some of the aches and pains he was feeling and wash them down the drain. The steam seemed to help the echoing rumble in his head and the hollow nagging feeling in his brain that shit was bad. He forced the thoughts and the dreams away as best as he could. Five minutes. That was all he wanted. Five fucking minutes to himself without the world and the Shadowman's nightmares bombarding him and reminding him of how epically shitty his life was. Well... not all of it. He had a bonafide angel as his co-pilot after all. And he giggled a bit at the thought of all the people out there with '_Jesus is my co-pilot_' bumper stickers and the sound was borderline nut-job in his own ears so he bit it off. He really had to get his shit together, figure out how to get out from under the Shadowman's thumb, stop taking the drugs cuz they were messing him up bad, kill the Shadowman if it were possible...

The list grew longer the more he thought of it, so he pushed it away too and concentrated on the hot water coursing over him. He scrubbed at his skin with the soap, smeared some shampoo in his hair and rigorously worked it through, held his breath as he stuck his head under the shower-head and braced his hands on the wall as he let the water do its work. He cracked an eye open and caught a glimpse of a pink shampoo bottle and reached for it blindly. He popped the top and smelled in deeply of its scent. The smell of Jessica flooded the shower and he breathed in some more, letting it fill him up like it did when it was wafting off her golden hair whenever he hugged her and buried his nose in her curls. It seemed to give him a bit of strength. Not as much as it would if she was here now and he was holding the real thing... but it strengthened his resolve. He had to fix what was wrong. He had to fix his life and give Jess the life she deserved because there was nothing for him without her. She loved him, and he loved her more than anything he'd ever known. She was the sun, and he was a hopeless moon bound to circle her forever. He was going to fix it...

He turned off the water, snatched his towel up off the floor and dried himself off. He actually felt a little better – definitely a little clearer upstairs and he walked into the bedroom with the towel slung across his hips. Once he was dressed, he felt a bit more human, and his stomach rumbled and reminded him that it had been neglected and abused too much the last bit of forever so he went to the kitchen and tried the toast thing again with more success than he did earlier. So much so, that he cracked open a can of chicken soup and put it in the microwave to heat. He leaned against the counter and watched the bowl spin in the microwave. His head was still beating like a drum, but it was better than it was before. Sinking into a chair at the table with the bowl of soup, he spooned it down and let the heat work its way though him from the inside out. Actually closing his eyes and enjoying the taste of the condensed soup because it had been so long since he'd eaten anything of consequence, and this was a good start.

Memories of his dream came to him while he ate, and he tried to force them away. He didn't need a re-cap of the finality of her voice when she said '_I want it to be over_,' or the smile Mel gave him as she slipped over the edge of the cliff. He really didn't need that shit cuz it wasn't real. None of it was real. Just like how Dean wasn't dead, Mel wasn't either. Hell, she wasn't real anyway.

Surprisingly, he managed to finish the soup. Dropping the bowl in the sink and rinsing some water over the mess, he grabbed a glass of water and flopped down on the sofa. Flipping through the channels, he again considered going out just to get out of the apartment. He felt like a hermit, and the silence where there should have been Jessica's laughter was weighing heavily on his mind.

He came to a sound conclusion while flipping channels… Saturday afternoon TV sucked. The only things on were Japanese game shows, lame reality shows, and movies that were the 'straight to DVD' variety.

He was about to give up and turn the stupid thing off, maybe go out and get a coffee, when a familiar face glanced across the screen and his heart leapt up into his throat and literally stopped beating. He hurriedly pressed the button to take him back a channel and caught the rest of the short news report.

'_Melissa Pitero's body was found by kayakers at the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir in the Yosemite National Park not far from the Wapama Falls. Foul play has been ruled out as a note left for her mother was found in her apartment. Pitero had been undergoing counseling since being a part of the major accident on the Nimitz Freeway just weeks ago. The passenger in Pitero's car died in that accident, her childhood friend, Amanda Tennyson. Friends of Pitero say that the accident and Tennyson's death may have contributed to what happened to her and why she took her own life, although they also say that Pitero was acting strangely for the past several months and some suspected drug activity as well. Police are investigating further into the matter and ask that people stay away from that portion of the park while they wrap up their investigation. A funeral for Pitero is expected for Wednesday or Thursday. And now, this wonder pup is the new...'_

He clicked the TV off, all feeling in his extremities non-existent as the falsely sympathetic blonde newscaster spoke about the death of a girl who apparently was quite real.

_Used to be real_, his subconscious taunted him.

Used to be real and he had witnessed her fucking death and didn't stop it and now she was dead and her mother had to bury her daughter and it was all because of the Shadowman and FUCK! He threw the remote across the room where it bounced off the wall and split into three pieces and left a dent in the drywall. He paced the room in long angry strides, raking a hand through his hair and wanting to lash out and not having a thing to take it out on. She was dead. She'd been real. He hadn't saved her.

_You can't save me, you can't save yourself..._

_No._

_If you were smart, you'd follow me down..._

_Please Mel..._

_You know I can't... I think you've known ever since you popped in here tonight..._

His hands were shaking and he clenched them to stop the trembling. A cold sweat broke out on parts of his body, and he felt like he'd just been dipped in burning oil with the rest. And his heart was hammering in his chest so hard he expected the neighbor downstairs to pound on his ceiling because surely he could _hear_ it from all the way downstairs...

_She's dead... She was real..._ kept running through his head, _and I didn't save her_.

His head started pounding, and the edges of his vision went blurry and gray, and the walls started to close in around him as his heart went into over-drive and he fell to his knees cradling his head in his hands and moaning.

It was all real... the accident he'd dreamt of – she'd been in it. He saw her car accident that killed her friend, he saw Mel fall over the edge, he saw the whole thing and he was so stupid. Guilt ate at him as he curled up on the floor, still cradling his head and feeling the first burn of tears prick at his eyes. He had failed her... he'd failed them both.

* * *

He wasn't quite sure just when the whiskey bottle wound up in his hands, things were a little hazy right now as he'd already put away a good portion of the booze. His headache was gone though, that was the main thing. The guilt was still there, which was probably why the bottle wound up in his hand in the first place. He didn't think that mixing the pills and the booze was a good idea, but the fucking little pills weren't doing shit for him now so what the fuck right? Might as well drown himself in oblivion. Anything to get out of seeing those tears leaking out of those dark bug-eyes haunting his every thought.

_Fucking little pills_, he cursed, anger creeping into his veins to keep the alcohol company. _Fucking little pills_...

He heaved himself off the floor, _when the fuck did I get on the floor?_ and headed for the bedroom, bottle swinging from his fingers.

_Fucking little pills..._

He tore at his book bag, pulling and digging until he found Alan's bottle. They were sitting on top of his cell, and he had an urge to call his brother and tell him about Melissa and how he watched her die. But he couldn't call his brother. How do you go about telling your older brother that you're a freak who dreams of people dying? How do you tell the person you've always looked up to that you dreamed of killing him? How?

_You don't, that's how_, he thought as he angrily shoved the cell back into the bottom of the bag and kicked it under the bed. _Not gonna call him. Nope, not gonna_.

The pill bottle caught his attention again. _Fucking little pills. Sonsofbitches_.

He snatched up the bottle and lurched for the bathroom, planning on flushing them down the toilet where they belonged. He took a deep pull off the bottle, and then another.

_Ya let me down assholes_, he cursed the tablets. He was aiming for the toilet on the left, but that was apparently the wrong one because the pills missed the can and skittered across the linoleum floor. He bent to pick them up, but cracked his head on the sink that jumped out of nowhere. He lost his balance and crashed against the side of the tub, his legs splayed but not a drop wasted.

_Good fucking reflexes Winchester, you're daddy would be proud you didn't spill the hooch_.

He took another hearty swig of the bottle as a reward for not making a bigger mess. He leaned forward to grab the pill closest to him, but his vision blacked around the edges, and a wave of vertigo washed over him so bad that he had to lean back and brace himself in the corner where the tub met the tiled wall.

_I'll get to you in a minute, you rotten little fuckers... _he cursed the tablets littering the floor_. Just as soon as the walls stop waving at me..._

* * *

A/N: You alright there Corrie or did you keel over?


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 12

The walls were fucking moving.

His head was lolling from side to side slightly and he was splay-legged on the floor next to the tub and the walls were god-damn waving at him. He took another swig from the whiskey bottle and waved it at the walls. "How do you like it... sonofabitch?" he slurred. He didn't feel like moving at all and all he wanted to do was drown out the memory of Melissa smiling as she fell over the edge of the cliff. He shuddered as the memory of him leaping for her and getting nothing but a front row seat to her fall washed over him.

What the fuck was going on? His freakazoid dreams were coming true? That girl actually died? He had witnessed it and she knew he was there and spoke to him and it was all a dream but it was real too? Things were officially beyond fucked now and he took a long pull off the bottle to dull the awareness of it all. At the moment, liquor was his new best friend. The little white pills had failed him miserably and he was just gonna drown himself in booze so that he didn't have to think for awhile. He kicked out feebly at one of the pills near his foot. It skittered away only a couple of inches and he sneered at it, "Little fucker."

He tipped the bottle against his mouth and let the amber fire burn its way down his throat and pool in his stomach where it sloshed and danced and caressed him from the inside out.

Nothingness.

That's all that he wanted right now was some fucking nothingness for a little while. He gulped from the bottle again and bounced his head slightly off the tiled wall.

_Come on oblivion._

* * *

"Sam?" Jessica called as the front door shut behind her.

He could hear her, but he couldn't call out to her to tell him where he was. His brain was no longer in charge of what he was doing and he was currently leaning sideways against the tub, his face mashed against the tile wall and the mostly empty bottle of Jack was dangling feebly from his fingertips and braced on his thigh. And he could hear music in his head, which was much, much better than fucking death visions from Dreamland and Shadowman laughter so he sang along and giggled at the walls that were still waving at him.

_Stupid asshole walls_... like he was gonna wave back to them.

_My daddy's gone..._

"Sam?" Jess stopped short in the doorway to the bathroom and looked at him in utter shock.

_My brother's up huntin' in the mountains..._ he slurred.

"Sam, what the hell?" she raced over to him and dropped to her knees beside him, grabbing the bottle from his fingers, putting it out of his reach and cupping his face in her hands.

_Old John's been drinkin' since the fire killed Mary Lou..._ his head rolled on a rubber neck as Jess twisted his face left and right.

"Sam. Look at me."

_And the powers that be left me here to do the thinkin'..._

"Sam, what did you do? What is this?" she picked one of the pills up off the floor and examined it.

_And I just turned twenty-two..._

"Oh my God," she breathed. She dropped the pill on the floor and started lightly tapping his face. "Baby! Come on Sam! Talk to me!"

_And I don't know what to do..._

"Oh Jesus." She let go of his face and reached for her purse and pulled out her cell.

_And the closer you get..._

He heard a tinny voice and '_911 Emergency_' come out of the tiny speaker.

"Yes, I need an ambulance!"

_The more I have to lose..._

* * *

Two days later…

He dragged his feet wearily behind Jessica's faster pace. He'd signed an AMA while she'd been sleeping in a chair next to his hospital bed, telling her he'd been discharged when she woke up shortly after.

The doctor had given him a stern look and said, "I wouldn't recommend you leaving us just yet Mr. Winchester."

Channeling his smart-assed brother from some deep recessed part of his drug addled brain, "That's why it's called an AMA Doc," and scrawled a messy signature across the bottom.

The stairways seemed a lot longer today and he wished that they had a ground floor apartment so that he didn't have to climb this freaking mountain right now. He wanted his bed. He felt like shit and getting your stomach pumped sucked hard-core and he just wanted to fall into bed and Dreamland could go to fucking hell because dreams weren't possible when you were this out of it.

He wished Jess would slow down. He wished she'd say something but she hadn't uttered a word to him or looked in his direction in hours. Her back was ram-rod straight and her hair was flat from her running her hands through the curls non-stop and she was pissed at him. He wasn't so out of it that he didn't know _that_. And he was an idiot for doing it in the first place, but he honestly didn't expect her back that night. Now he'd been caught...

Jess unlocked the door and left it ajar for him without looking back to see how far behind he'd gotten. When he grabbed the door knob it was just in time to hear the bedroom door click shut. He fell back against the apartment door and it closed heavily.

_She is __pissed__._

He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled face and took a deep breath. He had some serious apologizing to do but he hoped it could wait until he'd slept a few hours and his stomach stopped doing the fucking Lambada.

He dragged his feet towards the bedroom where he could hear shuffling and some muted crying. Guilt washed over him anew. He placed his hand on the knob and called in a cracked and rough voice, "Jess?"

She didn't answer so he called a little louder, "Jess? Can I come in?"

Still no answer – only a hitch in a sob that was quickly drowned out by the closet door shutting. He twisted the knob. It wasn't locked so he pushed it gently open, just wanting to tell her that he was sorry he had her worried and that she had to spend the last two days in the hospital with him. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her suitcase open on the bed and she was tossing things into it haphazardly and swiping angrily at her cheeks. It took a few seconds for his muddled brain to realize what she was doing.

"Jess," he whispered, "Jess, why are you packing a suitcase?"

She didn't turn when she answered him, just tossed a handful of underwear on top of the heap in the case and turning for the bureau to grab some socks. "I can't do this Sam." Her voice was as rough and broken as his was and the tears were thick in her throat.

His throat was closing up too as he watched her pace across the room, careful to not look up at him. "Can't do what, Jess?" he whispered.

She tossed the socks into the case and finally looked up at him with a look of utter grief and anger and a million other emotions. Gesturing wildly around the room, she hissed, "This. I can't do this."

"Jessica... what are you saying?" His already uneasy stomach just dropped down to his knees and lurched violently when it hit bottom.

"I love you Sam," she breathed. "I love you. I've never felt like this for anyone. _Ever_. But I can't stay here and watch you kill yourself. I can't do it."

"Kill myself...?" She thought he tried to commit suicide? "Jess, I wasn't trying to kill myself." He stepped towards her, wanting to put his hands on her shoulders and look into those pained blue eyes and tell her that he wasn't suicidal... he just wanted to make it all stop for awhile. But he didn't know how to explain it to her so that she'd understand. He couldn't explain it to her without telling her that he'd been lying to her for months, and the reddened, angry eyes and the fierce set of her beautiful lips told him that if he tried to touch her she'd shatter into a billion pieces and she'd take him with her when she imploded.

"No?" she tossed angrily, her eyes narrowing into thin slits as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Then what exactly was that I walked in on the other night Sam? You thought they were breath mints? Or it was a nightcap gone horribly wrong?"

"It's not like that."

"Then tell me Sam! Tell me that that wasn't a big bottle of Benzedrine scattered across the floor! Tell me that most of those pills weren't already gone! Tell me you didn't drain nearly a whole bottle of whiskey and were practically comatose on our bathroom floor!" She strode up to him and shoved him hard in the chest. "Tell me we didn't spend two days in the hospital, Sam! Come on! Lie to me some more!"

Guilt and shame filled him, making his traitorous stomach more volatile and he shrank beneath the blue-steel scrutiny of her gaze. "Jessica... please..." he begged. She couldn't leave him. She was the only reason he was fighting so hard.

"No Sam. You don't get to bargain with me on this. I love you too much to watch you do this to yourself. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help you." She shoved him again before twisting her fingers into the fabric of his t-shirt and shaking him roughly. "I thought if I gave you your space... that you'd let me in after awhile. You're whole past is a crap-shoot of awfulness and you don't want to think about it and you don't want to tell me about it and I get it. _I get that Sam_. But we're living together and you're still hiding from me the stuff that's happening. Right. Now." She shook him in emphasis with each of the last words.

"Jess, I was wrong. I know that..."

"You're damn right you were wrong!" she shrieked. "I feel like such a fool! How long has this been going on Sam? How long have you been on drugs? The whole time you've been with me?" she accused him, dragging a hand over her cheeks to wipe away the steadily flowing tears.

"No Jess. Only the last couple of weeks."

"Oh! _Only_!" she said flippantly, as if the word were a curse. "Well, doesn't that make me feel better. You've only been drugging yourself the last couple of weeks. Well... don't I feel better about this whole damn thing." The venom in her voice cut into him like a knife never would. His angel – so angry... and so right to be.

"Jess, let me explain," he pleaded, actually daring to hold her by the elbows. He could feel the sharp burn of tears building behind his eyes. He couldn't lose her. Not now.

"What are you going to explain to me?" she hissed. "That you've been lying and hiding things from me? Trust me Sam. I don't need you to explain that to me. I get it."

"Please Jessica – give me a chance to make this up to you," the tears were burning their way over his lids.

"Make it up to me?" she shrieked. "Sam! I found you unresponsive on our bathroom floor! What would have happened if I didn't come home early? If I came home Sunday like I'd planned? You could have died! How do you make that up to someone?!"

"I didn't mean to…" to what? Take all those pills? Drink that whole bottle? She was right. By all accounts, he should be dead right now.

"Stop it Sam," she closed her eyes in defeat, "Just stop it. I can't believe anything that comes out of your mouth anyway." Her bitter words were a slap across the face.

"But I love you," he whispered against her forehead.

She sniffed hard and pulled out of his grip. "No. You don't get to say that to me and expect me to forget Saturday night."

"I'm sorry Jess. I'm sorry that you saw that, I'm sorry that I was weak, I'm sorry that I've been lying to you…"

"Sorry that you've held me at arms length this whole time?" she accused him.

"I've never…" but that was a lie too, and he couldn't heap that big lie on top of all the ones that were mounding in between them.

"You've never?" she adopted a false sweet tone and his stomach clenched again. He was fucking in for it now, as if he wasn't already. His head was pounding and all he wanted was to lie down and hold her and tell her how sorry he was. "If you haven't been shutting me out… what's that scar on your thigh from, huh? Or the long one on your stomach? Or any of the ones all over your body?" She shoved him in the chest as she hissed, "I'm not stupid Sam. I know that's a bullet wound on your thigh, I know those are knife wounds, and bites, and your fingers are crooked from breaks, and you have burns… I don't know how you got any of those and I've never asked and you don't trust me enough to tell me that something is wrong and you turn to fucking pills and booze and you nearly killed yourself you sonofabitch!"

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her against him as she crumpled and her whole body convulsed with sobs. He held her tightly as she cried violently against him and his own tears fell onto her hair that had picked up an antiseptic smell from the hospital. The flats of her fists smacked harmlessly against him. and her fingers twisted into the material of his shirt as all the grief and anger that was in her poured out.

It was a long time before she mumbled brokenly against him, "Let me go Sam. I need to go."

"Jessica, please reconsider this," his pained whisper sounded bleak and defeated to his own ears.

"No. I don't know how to help you and you won't let me anyway. I can't watch you do this to yourself Sam. You need help."

"I'll get help," he agreed quickly. "I'll do whatever I have to… just… please don't do this Jess." She shook her head and he dared to grab her face in his hands and make her look at him. Searching her beautiful blue eyes he pleaded with her, "I… I'm gonna fly to South Dakota to talk to my Uncle Bobby, Jess. I'll catch the first flight there. I need to talk to him about something, and when I get back, I'll see a doctor – I promise I will. Jess, I'll make this better I promise. Just… just tell me you'll be here when I get back," he pressed his forehead against hers and tears slipped out from his eyes and landed on her cheek. "Promise me you'll be here when I get back."

He thought she was going to pull away when she gave him a pained and jerky nod. His heart lurched. _Halle-_fucking_-lujah_ she nodded yes.

"I'll be here when you get back Sam. But I can't stay here right now. I need to leave. I need some space and I need to think and I can't do that with you here."

"Okay." She could do whatever she had to as long as she would be here when he returned.

She pulled out of his grip and flipped the cover on her suitcase and zipped it shut. She didn't look at him as she pulled the handle bar out of the back and wheeled it for the bedroom door. She actually clicked the door shut behind her and he wisely stayed in the bedroom instead of following her. She needed space and he was gonna give it to her because he couldn't lose her. He was gonna do whatever he had to to keep her in his life.

He wasn't going to Bobby's though. What was one more lie on top of everything else? No. He wasn't going to South Dakota, he was going to Louisiana, deep bayou country – to see a man who might know what was wrong with him and how to fix it.

Wilson.

* * *

Sam negotiated the Santa Fe through the tree encroached road. Green boughs of softly dangling leaves were waving in the slight breeze and flashes of silver caught his eye when the underside of the leaf was exposed. It had been years since he'd been here – he couldn't have been more than twelve at the time, but the route looked the same now as it did as when he was a kid in the backseat of the Impala with his dad and brother in the front arguing good-naturedly about something or other. He had been too enthralled by the alligators drifting lazily out on the water on the other side of the tree line to pay much attention to them. He could catch glimpses of the beasts in between tree trunks as the family car meandered her way along the bumpy dirt road. His dad had to see this guy Wilson about something, and John couldn't leave them behind like he normally would have because the last place they'd been staying at had called Child Services and they had to get out of there in a hurry.

"What's this guy's name Dad?" he'd asked.

"Wilson, Sam." Gruff. Always gruff when he talked to him. Not jokingly like he did when he spoke to Dean.

"What's his first name?"

"Wilson."

Sam huffed with annoyance, "Then what's his last name?"

"Wilson." Short replies and getting shorter.

"You're telling me that this guy we've been driving hours to see is named Wilson Wilson?"

"Probably the only thing he can spell," Dean snickered.

"That's enough," John grunted at his oldest son. Sam snorted and his dad glared at him in the rear-view mirror. "Show some respect, boys. This guy's got some mojo and you don't want to be on the wrong end of it."

"Why? He gonna shoot lasers at me outta his eyes?"

"Wilson is blind Sam," his dad reprimanded him.

"Then how can he help you?"

"He knows things, and you'd be surprised what some people can do. You'll learn all about these things when you get older."

"I don't wanna learn anything. I hate hunting and I hate moving all the time. Why can't we be normal?"

"Come on Sammy," Dean turned in his seat and draped his arm over the back of the bench seat. "Normal sucks. And this life ain't so bad. When other kids are asked what they did on summer vacation, they tell lame stories about beach parties and getting stung by jellyfish."

"Doesn't sound so bad to me…" he muttered mutinously as he crossed thin arms over a thin chest.

"Well you've got cooler stories than any of those douches in the school we just left," Dean grinned, trying to keep him talking to him instead of goading their father.

"But I can't tell anybody those stories – can I?" he tightened his grip across his chest. "We do what we do and we shut up about it. Family motto – right Dad?"

"That's enough Sam," John growled softly. "We're almost there."

His first glimpse of the sun-bleached gator heads on the posts of the dilapidated shack had rendered him speechless for a moment. It was little more than a tar-paper shed, raised four feet above the ground so that the floodwaters wouldn't wash it away in bad weather. There was an old row boat on its side to the left, and there wasn't any other vehicle around to be seen. No other houses, no people, just a shack and alligators basking in the sun thirty feet away from the front porch. There was a man on the porch that hadn't been there a second ago. An old man that looked too frail and helpless to be of any use to anybody and Sam was convinced that his dad had gotten them lost because who was this schmuck?

"Name's Wilson boy," the old man spoke slowly, "This is ma home so be respectful."

He was completely taken aback. Did that old dude just read his mind?

"T'was a quick read, trust me…"

His dad snickered a little but Dean came to stand behind him, placing a hand on his thin shoulder because his brother obviously saw the utterly freaked-deer-in-the-headlights look on the younger boy's face.

The old man, Wilson, cocked his head to the side and seemed to study him. It was like he was looking straight through him and Sam shuddered. Those milky-grey eyes bore into him and he felt ill to his stomach.

"Well, well. Ain't that intrestin'," the old man clucked his tongue.

"What's interesting?" his dad asked in a low voice.

"John Winchester, it's nice to finally meet you," Wilson said to his dad, dropping the uber-creepy stare-fest with Sam and turning towards John. Sam shuddered again, grateful for Dean's hand on his shoulder. "Nothing, jist, yer boy there – he's a real smart one ain't he?" The two men walked towards the edge of the porch to greet each other, John seeming non-plussed with the white eyed man or his brief contact with his youngest son.

"You okay Sammy?" Dean leaned down and murmured in his ear.

"Yeah, I'm fine." It was the standard Winchester answer he'd learned to give ever since he'd outgrown Transformer band-aides. It covered everything right up to a near bleed-out in John's case. He was lying of course. Lying was standard in their family as well. Don't talk about your feelings, don't admit weakness, don't disobey orders, don't, don't, don't. He wasn't okay though. He felt freaked out – violated even. Those eyes had pierced something in him, and he didn't like it one bit.

That was all years ago though. He was a little kid then, easily freaked. He was grown up now. He'd seen things in his young life that others wouldn't even have nightmares about. That thought made him cringe. Fucking nightmares had started this whole mess and he felt a pang in his gut for Jessica. He hoped – he prayed – that she would be there when he got back to California. He didn't want to open that apartment door and see all traces of her removed from their home.

He was gonna make it right. That's why he was driving through the god-damn bayou in hundred degree weather and humidity so high you could drink the air.

He chanced a peek out the window and saw alligators floating on the swamp water. Briefly, he wondered if they were the same ones that he'd seen when he was here the first time when he was a kid. The shack wasn't far now…

(- - Black Snake Blues, by Jeff Martin - -)

It was the same as he remembered it as he negotiated his way around the last bend in the road and came bumper to flood-post with the shack. The gator skulls gleamed brightly in the dappled sunlight and there was an old man on the porch just like there had been ten years earlier.

Wilson was unchanged in the years since Sam saw him. Still tall and lean, his short curly hair that had certainly once been jet black was now a snowy white and in stark contrast to the dark, freckled and heavily wrinkled face. The white film of cataracts glazed his eyes, turning the brown they must have been in his youth to the milky grayish color he remembered from his time here before. Although blind, Sam knew full well that Wilson saw more than most.

"Sam Winchester," Wilson spoke slowly and deliberately. "It's bin years, boy." The wizened man had an air about him that commanded attention, even if his soft voice didn't.

Sam didn't even bother to wonder how Wilson knew who was in his driveway. It was, after all, why he was here. Wilson knew things. Wilson saw things. And Sam prayed that Wilson would know something about whatever was plaguing him.

"Hey Wilson," Sam called back, slamming the door to the yuppie-mobile. "Yeah, it has been awhile." Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled forward, letting the dirt driveway announce his every step to a man who probably didn't need the auditory help.

"Verra long." Wilson took another step closer to the edge of the rundown porch, placing a hand on the post nearest him. "Don't suppose I should ask how yer daddy's doin'?" the corners of his mouth turned up slightly at that – like it was a known joke that Sam and his father hadn't spoken in ages.

"You probably know more than I do Wilson," Sam stopped at the edge of the deck, still standing on the dirt driveway. There was no way he was gonna step onto that porch unless he was invited.

"I wouldn't go assumin' things like that," a sly grin spread across the old man's face, the white eyes nearly dancing. "What-choo doin' here, boy?"

_Like you need to ask_, he thought, and Wilson's mouth turned up slightly again.

"I need your help," he stated bluntly. There was no point in pussyfooting around about it, not with this guy.

Wilson cocked his head to the side and looked at him with blind eyes. Really looked at him. Sam felt as if spiders were crawling over his skin with the scrutinizing gaze the old man was giving him. "Yes Son, you surely do." Wilson turned towards the door to the house, "Come on in Sam," he gestured with a wave of his hand, "Nothin' gonna bite you today."

Wilson disappeared into the dark interior, leaving Sam alone outside. Taking a deep breath, he climbed the stairs that were crumbling with dry rot and went in. The place was dirty, and it smelled musty, like the wood was rotting in time with Wilson's increasing age – as if the shack wouldn't live long after the old man died. He pondered how old Wilson must be. He'd been ancient ten years ago, but little had changed physically for the mystic. He figured he had to be in his mid to late eighties, but it was hard to tell.

"Go on and sit down," Wilson pointed to a rickety chair next to a plywood table as he shuffled towards a shelf of cubbyholes. There was a glass of murky brown water sitting in front of the chair, and Sam had a sinking feeling about that glass of water. He sat gingerly in the chair, praying that it wouldn't break under his weight. He watched as Wilson ghosted gnarled fingers over the openings of the shelves, muttering 'no, no,' to himself as he did so.

Finally, the old man plucked a cloth packet out of one of the cluttered holes and shuffled back to the table. Reaching for the glass of dirty water, he sprinkled a pinch of a black powder on top of the liquid and gave the glass a slosh before sliding it back in front of his young visitor. For a moment, Sam was captivated with the way that Wilson seemed to be able to 'see' while being blind.

The old man sat wearily in the only other chair at the table with a tired sigh and nodded at the glass. "Go on Boy, drink up."

Sam didn't miss the slight upturn of the corners of his mouth – like he was getting ready to laugh at the look of revulsion on Sam's face that he shouldn't be able to see. "Wilson, what is it?"

"Bit a dis… bit a dat…" he shrugged vaguely, "Now drink."

He grabbed the glass and grimaced at it as he held it up to the light of a dirty window and saw all the particles drifting around.

"You kin drink it, or you kin go…" Wilson said slowly, and not without a bit of mirth. "But if you want ma help, you're a gonna hafta drink dat."

So he took a deep breath and drained the glass in one gulp.

It tasted like ass.

Wilson chuckled outright, "Indeed it do, Boy. Indeed it do."

Sam coughed and sputtered a bit on the oily substance, feeling it settle in his stomach and start to churn like it was a live fish swimming lazily around in there.

"Mmmm," Wilson mused, "well now… let's get a look at-cha, shall we?" The old man cocked his head to one side and reached out slowly to take the sides of Sam's face. His hands were dry and leathery on his skin, and Sam shuddered as white eyes seemed to bore their way right into him. His stomached seemed to come alive with the contact and he hoped he didn't get sick and ruin whatever it was that Wilson was doing. The old man turned his face left and right in a grip that was too strong for so feeble looking a man, and the fish in his stomach seemed to be swimming laps like it was going for an Olympic gold.

"Mmmm… Yes…" Wilson whispered as he continued to peer into his soul, and he honestly started to think that was what the old man was doing – soul gazing. Sam kept quiet and still during the whole thing. He didn't just fly half way across the country and spent hours of driving to not let the man do his thing.

"Well now boy," Wilson breathed as he let go of his face. "I ain't never seen the like b'fore."

"Seen what Wilson?" Sam's stomach was churning with that stupid fluid he drank and he felt like he could be sick any moment, but at least it had calmed a bit from the marathon it was running a moment ago.

"Not sure. But it's dark… that's fer damn sure," he paused a bit and actually smiled. "And it don' like me one bit."

There was an extra slosh in his gut and Sam held a hand over his stomach in alarm. "Is that why my stomach is going nuts?"

"I think so," slow and deliberate as always. Sam would appreciate a little more alarm out of the old man – he'd just told him there was something dark in him.

"Well what do I do? How do I get it out?" he demanded.

"Not sure... Jis told you I'd never seen the like." Wilson was looking at him in a scrutinizing way that made him feel distinctly ill at ease.

"How long has it been there? Did you see it that first time you met me? When I was a kid?" he asked, cringing as he remembered the way Wilson had looked right through him.

"I thought I caught a glimpse of somethin', but I wasn't sure. You was just a boy after all, and it was plain that you had problems wit yer daddy."

"My Daddy problems are the least of my worries right about now," he replied hotly.

"I meant," the old man gazed at him, "that I attributed what I saw, to you bein' angry at the moment."

"Wilson," he seethed, "I was always angry with him. That wasn't anything new."

"But how much a that anger was yers?" he leaned back in the rickety chair and cocked his head to the side again. Sam's stomach lurched at the look and he fought to keep himself together. "Tell me Sam – tell me 'xactly what's bin happenin' to you."

So he took a deep breath and told him about the dreams of the alleyways, the beast that stalked him, the Shadowman, of Dean dying by his hands. He told him about the freeway accident and then he told him about Melissa and her suicide and his witnessing it.

"That's a helluva tale Son," Wilson mused while he stroked the loose skin on his jaw. "Helluva tale. And you was taking pills to keep you awake?"

"Yeah, they were called Benzedrine," he clarified, not knowing if that as relevant or not.

"Hhmmph," he snorted derisively, "the government and they chemicals don't cure nothin' boy. The government don understand life and nature and what's beyond. They understand money, and dat's it."

"Government is corrupt. I got it. Thanks for the politics lesson," he rolled his eyes and got a kick in the shin for his trouble. "Ouch! What was that for?"

"This is ma house boy. Don't you be forgettin' that."

Sam took a deep breath as his stomach gave a violent jerk from the kick. Fishy definitely didn't like Wilson touching him in anyway.

"You kin go outside and sick it up now iffen you like," he nodded towards the door. "I needs to do some thinkin'."

Sam didn't waste any time hightailing it for the door, and he felt instantly relieved after he stood up from his bent over position on the edge of the water. He'd been warily watchful of the big alligator twenty feet out drifting in the sun and watching him in return. As soon as he stood up, the beast went under and Sam made a hasty retreat for the porch four feet off the ground. Not a second after he'd leapt up on the rotting porch did the gator saunter up on the edge of the swamp where he'd just been. It seemed to be sniffing around, pacing the spot where he threw up the god-awful concoction of Wilson's. Sam watched the gator in rapt amazement as it suddenly started scraping dirt and mud over the mess before slithering back into the water.

"That's Merle," Wilson said from behind him. He hadn't even heard him come up behind him. "He's almost as old as I am."

"He some sort of pet?" Sam swiped the back of his hand over his foul tasting mouth.

"He's a wild animal, Son," the old man explained as if he were slow on the uptake. "Don mean that he ain't seen some shit living 'round here wit me though." He held out a glass of water that was blessedly clear and Sam took it and drank it down, grateful to get rid of some of that awful taste.

"So do you have any ideas on what to do?" he ran a hand through his sweat damp hair.

"I kin do some askin' 'round," and Sam knew Wilson wasn't talking about asking anyone with a pulse. "But dat kin take some time."

"So what do I do in the meantime? I can't stay here – I have to go back to California."

"Mmmm… yer girl." Sam bristled a bit at the way Wilson said it, and didn't understand why until the old man kept talking. "You eva think dat maybe the best thing would be to cut 'er loose?"

"No." he said firmly. The last thing he wanted was a life without Jessica. She was the reason he got up in the morning instead of putting a bullet in his head or jumping to his death like Melissa did. He was going to fix this, and God-willing, he was going to make Jessica realize that they could work through this and get back to where they were before this whole storm started.

"Love is a mighty powerful thin' boy. Don' misjudge it, 'cuz it will bite you in the ass as surely as Merle will."

"Is it strong enough to get this thing out of me?"

"That be up to you. Are _you_ strong enough? For her?" he quirked a white eyebrow at him.

"I'll do whatever you tell me to Wilson. Whatever this thing is, I want it out of me and I'll do whatever it takes. _I want my life back_." He pounded a fist gently against a post and the gator skull opposite him rattled slightly from the impact.

"I'll need some time, Son. This ain't somethin' to rush into all foolhardy."

"I can't take more of those dreams Wilson. I killed my brother. I watched a girl kill herself..."

"You wasn't opposed to chemicals. How do you feel about somethin' more herbal?"

"You got a bag of weed in there for me Wilson?" he chuckled softly.

"There be a bit of that in there, but some other thin's as well. I kin make you somethin' fer the dreams. You brew it into a tea and drink it and it will make you near dead for a time."

"It will stop the dreams?" he asked hopefully.

"I don't know if it will stop dem, but I don't think you will remember dem come mornin'."

"That sounds good enough for me for now… until we can figure out what to do next."

"Come back tomorrow, and I'll have it fixed fer ya."

"Thanks Wilson. I really mean it. Thanks."

* * *

Sam was on a shuttle-bus from the airport back to Stanford. He was nervously tapping his foot on the floor, earning harsh glares from irritated neighbors but he didn't care. He couldn't think of how to smuggle the bag of '_herbs_' on board a post-911 plane so he took a risk and mailed them instead. He still had the mail box from when he was living in the dorm and the box was a drop point just like his dad had always done, billed to a credit card and that was it. Further investigation to the box would require subpoenas and if he saw anyone shifty watching the box he would just walk away. He knew how it worked.

He had made a plan with Wilson to contact him via the number of a friend of his if either found anything. Apparently, the old man walked to town once a week. Sam had been incredulous – town was fifteen miles away, the dirt road was a mess and the old man was blind. He didn't know how the old man could navigate his way there, but chalked it up bayou mysticism and stopped worrying about it. He had more pressing matters at hand at the moment, and that was whether or not Jessica would be home when he got there or if she would have cleared out her stuff while he was away.

His heart was pounding like a jackhammer as he climbed the stairs to their unit. He could feel little beads of sweat forming on his brow and his hands were shaking slightly. It took a moment to get the key in the lock because of the shakes, and he held his breath as he turned the knob and pushed the door open.

His breath caught in his throat and he sent a prayer skyward when a golden-haired angel stood up from where she'd been perched on the edge of the sofa. She was wringing her hands nervously in front of her, and she was biting her lip so hard it was white – but she was here.

She was fucking _here_. Everything else could be dealt with after.

He dropped his duffle on the floor and took a hesitant step closer to her, unsure of what to say other than, "You're here."

"I told you I would be," she whispered, still wringing her hands.

He took another step closer to her and then another. "Jessica… I am so sorry I put you through all of this. I'm an idiot."

"Yeah," she breathed, "you are."

She seemed to fall into him at that, burying her face in his chest and he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. He buried his nose in her hair and breathed deep as her arms wound their way around his waist and she started to shake with tears.

He could feel his throat closing up around a giant lump that had formed there, brought on by her tears and his own cresting emotions.

He made a silent pledge to her then; _I __will__ make this better, Jess. I'll fix it – I promise._


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 13

Brittle.

If he were to give one word to describe things with Jessica it would be brittle. Delicate would work too, so would tenuous. Yeah… tenuous worked, but brittle was better cuz at any moment, everything could shatter around them. He was holding onto her by his fingertips and he knew it, but he was holding onto her, and that had to count for something.

She had demands naturally. First, he had to stop taking the drugs. That was going to be easy enough, they weren't working anyway. Second, he had to get counseling. They had to get counseling. Third, he wasn't allowed to hide from her anymore. She didn't expect him to share with her his life from before, but he had to come clean about everything that was going on now. Fourth, he had to stop working night shifts and get a day time job so that they could be together more. She was convinced that the time apart was a contributing factor into the strangers they had become and if they were going to make a real go of fixing what was wrong, they had to spend more time with each other. He could see her point on all of it, and he wished he could give her everything that she wanted, but that just wasn't gonna happen. He couldn't come clean about everything, he couldn't stop lying to her, he would still hide things from her… he was just going to have to be more cunning in his execution of the whole thing.

He quit his job at the office building downtown and got a job a call centre with a cell phone company. Working in a cubicle sucked and talking to idiots on the phone who didn't understand why their phone didn't work only to find out they didn't install the battery sucked, but it was one of the things on Jessica's list so he just grit his teeth and sucked it up. It was only for the rest of the summer and then he was hoping to get a T.A. position at the school in the fall.

He had to be careful when it came to Wilson's 'Tea' as he couldn't allow Jess to know of its existence. Wilson's dire warning floated in his still expanded head space every time he made himself a cup, "_Don't you be takin more than I tells ya to boy. This stuff won't work foreva so don't speed it along by over-doin' it._" And he certainly didn't want to overdo it. Not with Jess watching him like a hawk. And he felt immensely guilty at the strain he'd put on her. He could see it in her eyes, this tired and scrutinizing look in the blue depths that made his heart ache knowing it was directed at him. Her family wasn't as supportive of him as she was. Dave and Nina tried, but they gave him a wider berth than they had before, like they were afraid of saying anything to set him off. And although he went to church with the Moores every Sunday, the day had lost its previous family-closeness. Everything was just forced and strained all around and it was entirely his fault.

The worst had been when Amber came back from L.A. a few days after he got back from Wilson's. Jess was at the restaurant, the bell rang and when he opened the door, there was a beautiful Mexican woman screaming at him in a Spanish so rapid he didn't stand a chance of following. Amber stormed into the apartment, yelling at him and the general gist of the tirade was that if he ever put her Chicka through something like that again, she would personally store his testicles in a mason jar and put them on display down at the restaurant between the pickled hot-peppers and the Tequila bottles. Or at least, that was what he made out – she'd been yelling for awhile.

But so far, he was getting away with it. The tea worked like a charm. It tasted like shit and made his mouth feel fuzzy so that he had to drink two glasses of water and brush his teeth afterwards, but it worked. He was getting a steady seven hours of sleep every night, which was scores more than he'd been getting in weeks. He felt better, he looked rested and he felt rested. His head was still a giant store room, but he wasn't dreaming of the Shadowman, or dead Dean, or of Melissa's smile as she slipped over the side of the cliff. He wasn't dreaming anything that he was aware of. He would wake up in the morning on his side of the bed, and a small chasm between him and Jessica on the double bed. He would look longingly at her only a few inches away. He could feel the heat coming off her body next to him, but he couldn't touch her. He didn't dream of touching her, not with things so brittle between them. They had a lot of ground to cover before they could even think about getting back to _that_. But she was there. She was inches away and she was sleeping soundly and he could listen to the sounds of her soft breath in the still early morning hours before everything got crazy and stressed. It was easy to forget the last number of weeks in those early hours. When he could look across the bed at her, her hair fanned out on the pillow and her face relaxed and serene. When he would be tempted to slide over and erase those inches between their bodies and hold her against him like he used to. Reminiscing about how she used to snuggle into his side, a small warm hand over his heart, tracing patterns on his chest, or running her fingers over top of his old scars. How he fucking missed that now. He wished he could reach over and run a hand gently along a lock of golden hair, feel it's silkiness on his skin, have it tickle his face like it did when she'd pin him to the mattress, nipping playfully at his neck. The days before the nightmares and the pills and Melissa.

And he couldn't forget Melissa.

She was haunting him more than the image of dead Dean in the cavern because he knew that Dean wasn't dead, and Mel was. He'd seen the whole fucking thing after all. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that silver moonlit tear on her cheek... that smile of freedom as she took her life... the way she held her arms out as she fell like a diving bird would do before it swooped up to skim the earth... Only Mel didn't swoop up last minute to skim the earth. She met it head on and lost.

He was determined to find out why the Shadowman was after her… and him as well. He would find out what the Shadowman was, and he'd kill the sonofabitch if he could. There was no way that that evil-of-evils was gonna get away with causing that frightened girl to take her own life in the place where he'd hunted her. There was no way that he would let that monster ruin his life anymore than he already had. He had to protect Jessica, he had to stop the Shadowman, and he had to do it without either of them finding out he was doing it.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Early July, 2005

Sam was dropping Jessica off at the restaurant. He was borrowing the car so that he could go and 'meet' with a psychiatrist. He was telling her that he was having preliminary interviews with them so that he could find one he liked. In actuality, he was trying to track down Melissa Pitero's friends and relatives and pumping them with questions. He'd found a former boyfriend of hers in a bar two days ago, knocking back shots like beers at a keg party. The guy, Danny, had been very free with information, telling Sam anything he asked about and didn't think twice about it mostly in part to the amount of liquor in his system. He also seemed quite happy to offer things about the girl on his own so long as Sam kept plying him with more drinks. They had apparently broken up back in March when she'd '_gone off her rocker_' and he'd hardly spoken to her after that. March was when she said she started dreaming of the Shadowman so the time-line made sense. Danny thought that she'd gotten herself wrapped up in some bad drugs or prescription meds or something. She'd been a sweet girl and then she just went off-line with everyone except Amanda. She probably would have ditched her too if Amanda wasn't so hard-headed and stubborn when it came to Mel. Danny figured that losing Amanda was what set her off and pushed her over the edge. He had the sense to look sheepish at that analogy, wincing and apologizing as Sam was posing as a distant cousin of the deceased girl.

Today, he was going to talk to the dead girl's mother. He knew how to find her before he even got back from Wilson's, but he put it off and hadn't felt up to going to talk to the grieving parent yet. He wanted to look healthier before going to her, not wanting to upset her by showing up on her doorstep with the same haunted, empty look in his eyes that Mel had in hers. He had gleaned a lot of info on Mel the last couple of days, enough to make a good attempt at claiming to know her fairly well which was what he was going to do with her mother. He'd read her obituary, he'd gone to her old school and looked through old year books... spoke to old teachers, posing as a journalist student wanting to write a story on the unfortunate girl.

So he dropped Jess off at the restaurant, didn't even hold his breath in hopes of getting a traditional, chaste kiss on the cheek, and took off for San Jose.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Thank you Mrs. Pitero," he said as she placed a cup of coffee in front of him on the dining room table. He found the home no problem. It was on a nice quiet street in the outskirts of San Jose. Modest, but clean and warm feeling. Or it would have felt warm if there wasn't a huge shadow of grief hanging over the place. But you couldn't expect anything different from the older woman – she buried her daughter last week.

"It's Holly," she corrected gently. "Holly Morgan. I went back to my maiden name several years ago." She dropped wearily into the chair opposite him with a mug of her own. Her hands were wrapped around the mug as if it were the only thing keeping her together. Her straggly red hair hung around her face, and her eyes were drawn and red-rimmed. Sam wondered what Mel's dad looked like as the woman in front of him bore no resemblance to the girl from his dreams at all.

"Sorry," he said, more to his coffee than to her. _The poor woman_... "Thank you for speaking to me today," he continued, "I just got back from North Carolina yesterday and heard about Mel... I'm sorry I missed the funeral..."

"It was a lovely service," she whispered, seeming to be more of an automatic response than something she actually thought.

"Mrs. Pitero... ahhh, Holly... can you tell me what happened in the last couple weeks? Mel seemed stressed out the last time I saw her, but that was at the end of May... and I just can't wrap my head around this..." he gave her a full dose of the puppy dog eyes from underneath his shaggy hair. He had told her he was a patron of the coffee shop where Mel had worked, and that they were slowly becoming friends over the past couple months. And if he made it seem to the grieving mother that there may have been a budding romantic connection between the two, that was unintentional but seemed to work in his favor.

"She just got really withdrawn the last couple weeks... More so than usual I guess. And after the accident... and Amanda..." she sniffed loudly and a tissue came out of its hiding place up her sleeve and Holly started dabbing at her eyes, "Well, that was the beginning of the end right there. I wish I'd seen it coming... I wish I'd been able to h-help her..." The tears were free-flowing now and she wiped at her face with the disintegrating tissue. "I wish I'd handled everything differently..." she sobbed, shoulders hunched and shaking.

"You couldn't have known Holly," he leaned closer to the crying woman and spoke softly as he patted the back of her hand. He felt so guilty for putting this woman through this, always hating his dad for doing this exact same thing to countless victims of evil circumstances. But his dad was right about some things – one was that grieving people liked to talk to sympathetic listeners.

"Can you tell me how it all started?" he asked her.

"It was back in February or March sometime," she sighed, her voice shaky with emotion.

_Her birthday was February twelfth_… his mind dug the knowledge up from the obituary he'd read.

"She told me she was having these really dark dreams – that they were coming to her every night. She was frightened of them, but they were just dreams, you know?" Holly looked up with crimson eyes, pleading with him to understand. "They were just dreams..."

"Did she tell you what they were about?"

"She said the devil was stalking her, that he would chase her through the woods up at W-Wapama Falls," her voice hitched as another volley of shakes took hold of her. "I asked her if she was on drugs. Can you believe it? She's having nightmares and talking about the devil chasing her and I asked her if she was on drugs," she hissed. "She was convinced that the dreams were real, she was frightened and scared and I asked her if she was on drugs."

"Was she?" He already knew the answer to that one, but she would expect him to ask the question.

She nodded grimly. "I found out later she was trying all sorts of drugs. Prozac, Vicodin, Marijuana… you name it."

"Bennies?" he offered.

"Them too." Holly took a long drink from her cup before continuing. "I was angry with her, but she said they helped keep the dreams away and she withdrew even more from me. Melissa and I… we haven't always had a rosy relationship…"

"Since you and her dad split up?" he offered.

"Yeah… she was messed up for a long time after that. Didn't talk much, until Ted came over to read her her bedtime story." She wiped at another stray tear as the memory came to her. "And then when Teddy died… it was like part of her went with him. It took a long time after that for her to open up to me again. Things were going good for us the last couple years. She finished high school, and she started working… last year she moved out on her own. I was so proud of her for that. Twenty one and out on her own? It wasn't like she made a lot of money at that coffee shop, but she was paying her own way. She started seeing a really nice boy named Danny…" she paused, looking at him a little guiltily at the mention of the former boyfriend.

"I met Danny before," he took a sip of coffee. "He did seem like a nice guy – like he really cared for her."

Holly nodded numbly. "He came to the funeral – Danny did. It was the drugs that pushed him away I think. She just got so withdrawn… the only one who could talk to her was Amanda…"

"She took Amanda's death really hard – didn't she."

"Undoubtedly. She felt responsible for her death. They'd been friends since they were little girls," her breath hitched, "but it was an accident. She was even clean for the last couple of weeks before the accident – the hospital ran tests on her while she was in the ICU. But she felt so guilty, and you couldn't tell her it wasn't her fault."

"Is that when you talked her into seeing the psychiatrist? Dr...?" He was fishing. He didn't know the name of the shrink yet and he definitely wanted to talk to him in person.

"Doctor Cogsworth," she nodded. "He seemed like a nice man, but Mel never favored him much. She was convinced that he couldn't help her."

"Did Mel ever say what she thought caused the accident?" he leaned closer to the grieving mother, giving her another dose of the puppy eyes.

"She wouldn't talk about it, just kept saying it was her fault. If you ask me, I think she may have been having a drug flashback. I read how they can attack you from time to time, make you have hallucinations… Acid, and stuff like that can stay in your brain for a long time – eating at you. I think that's why she felt so guilty. I-I wish she would have talked about it. We might have been able to help her but she w-wouldn't let us." Her face disappeared in her tissue again and her shoulders racked with sobs.

"I'm sorry Holly. I truly am. I wish I could have known her better…"

Holly reached out and rested a cold hand on top of his, red tear-stains down her pale cheeks. "Thank you Sam. I can tell you mean it. Some folk come in here to give their condolences, but they don't feel it. They're here because they feel like they're supposed to walk in that door and tell me how sorry they feel, all the while grateful it wasn't their child being buried. But you're different. I could see it in your eyes the second I opened my door. Can I ask how close you two were? I don't mean to pry, but I'd like to know she still had a few friends who cared about her at the end. Really cared about her."

"I… I wish I could have saved her," he whispered truthfully. "I wish that…" and his words trailed off because he couldn't say anything else to this poor woman that wouldn't hurt her more than she already was.

"I know Sweetheart," she patted his hand maternally and gave him a sad smile. "We all wish we could have saved her."

"I'm sorry Ms. Morgan. I should go now. Thank you for speaking to me." He had to get out of there because he could feel tears forming behind his eyes. He had thought that there was no resemblance between mother and daughter but he was wrong. Mel had the exact same defeated smile as her mother and he had to get out of there.

He grabbed his coat off the back of the chair, thanked her again, and tried not to run down the walkway to the safety of the Colt parked on the sidewalk. Once inside, breathing in the remnants of the Jessica infused car, he felt a bit better. He cranked on the key, prayed that the old engine would catch, and when it did, he headed to the coffee shop where Mel used to work. He had a few more questions.

At the café, he used the free wireless internet to do some research on Dr. Cogsworth. Originally from Boston, he left a successful practice and came to San Jose several years before. He had an address and a phone number listed on the site he was reading so he dialed the Doc's receptionist and scheduled a preliminary interview with the shrink for the following week. He'd always known what psychiatrist he wanted to see, and now that he found him, it would make Jess happy to know that he'd found someone he felt '_comfortable_' talking to about his problems.

A waitress came by and refilled his cup. He smiled at her, and said, "Excuse me. I'm a journalist student at Stanford University. I'm writing an article on Melissa Pitero and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

That night, he skipped the tea and lay in bed next to Jess for a couple hours until well after midnight. He put on old sweat clothes, grabbed his sneakers and Jess' car keys and headed to the cemetery in San Jose where Mel was buried. Her last couple months alive had been a nightmare – literally. The least he could do was to ensure that her death was peaceful. He had stashed a can of salt and a shovel in the car on his way home earlier so that he could give her his final gift. Mel wasn't a hunter, but she was going to get a hunter's burial so that the Shadowman couldn't get to her anymore and so that she didn't come back as a restless and vengeful spirit in the future.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Where were you?" Jessica was standing on the other side of the door when he got back, arms crossed tightly across her chest and her eyes narrowed into deadly slits. It was later than he'd hoped to get back, shortly after six am, but he hadn't expected her to be awake so early. Awake _and_ pissed.

"I woke up at like three-thirty," he lied, hoping not to get caught in his lie because he had no idea how long she'd been awake. "I was really jittery and I couldn't get back to sleep so I got up and went for a long jog." He wiped his forehead on his arm for effect.

She gave him a scrutinizing look through those awful narrowed eyes and leaned in close. She sniffed loudly and wrinkled her nose. "You stink."

"That tends to happen when you go jogging."

_Or digging up a body for a salt and burn…it was closed-casket for a reason by the way..._ and he tried to hide his shudder by kicking off his sneakers.

He risked touching her and put his hands on her elbows, willing her to uncross her arms. "You have no reason to trust me Jess. I know that," he said softly. "But believe me. I wasn't out doing drugs or anything else. I was just jogging. It helped to clear my head a little and I'm sorry if I worried you. Next time I'll leave you a note," he promised.

She softened a little, nodding her golden head and giving him a small smile. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. You're doing everything I asked you to and this can't be easy for you, and you haven't complained or grumbled once. I thought there would be more withdrawal symptoms but you're doing amazingly well. I thought that maybe you were doing so well because you hadn't given them up," she confessed.

"Believe me Jess. I'm done with those pills. They were bad news and I'll never take them again – I promise."

"You really are trying, aren't you?" she looked up at him then, blue eyes sad and soft.

"Jessica – I don't want to lose you. You know you're everything to me. I screwed up and I'm going to do what I have to make it right."

"Thank you," she whispered, surprising him when she stepped in and gave him a gentle hug around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder. The contact was so unexpected that he froze for an instant before letting his arms wrap around her and hold her tight. These small steps were mountains to them right now, but every mountain climbed would be worth it if they could get back to where they were before.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sunday morning church...

He used to enjoy it. It wasn't as if he were a holy roller or anything, and his beliefs ran far darker than even the most devout follower, but he had enjoyed it for the fact that it was a family thing and the Moores had welcomed him into theirs. Things were different now – strained and forced. He suspected that Jess' parents had suggested she leave him – not that he blamed them – and they seemed resigned to being polite and cordial, but that was it. They treated him like he was a neighbor they didn't particularly care for. You had to try and be nice because they were your neighbor, but that didn't mean you invited him the backyard barbeque. So he now felt like he was a disliked neighbor – not that he didn't deserve it.

Jess, the angel that she was, ignored the coolness her parents showed him and smiled encouragingly at him. She stood next to him, hymnal in her hands, holding the book aloft for them both to read and her slightly off-key voice was music to his ears. He could feel the warmth of her body leeching out towards his side. Memories of the hug she gave him this morning coursed through his veins, giving him hope that they could fix what was wrong. That _he_ could fix it. Jess hadn't done a thing…

They hymn over, the pastor called for them to be seated and to bow their heads in prayer. Obediently, he dropped his head and stared at his lap and his folded hands, while listening to the pastor's monotone voice begging God for strength and the safe return of the soldiers in Iraq. Dave's brother was serving there, and the wedding was being held off until after Jeremy came back in early August. Jeremy was to be the Best Man, while Dave's partner Mark was going to be an usher. Sam didn't miss that he hadn't been asked to be a part of the wedding ceremony, but they didn't ask him before he became a walking pharmacy, so that wasn't the reason why he wasn't included. Dave just didn't know him well enough to ask him to stand for him, and they certainly weren't getting better acquainted now. Nina and Dave tried to be nice to him, he knew they were trying, and he kept telling himself that their busy lives and the wedding plans were what kept them preoccupied. He just wished that it were easier for Jess. She loved her sister, and being at odds with her over this was hard on her at a time when she didn't need more stress.

The pastor called for everyone to take a moment to offer a silent prayer of their own, and Sam found himself actually praying. Nothing for himself really, just for Jessica.

_Please God, if you're up there, and if you're listening… help her. She's good, and she's kind, and she loves her family. I'm sorry that I screwed up, and I'm probably the last person who you'd reach out to help because of all the wrong I've done in my life… but her? She's your greatest creation. Seriously Dude _– and he cringed a bit at calling the big guy 'Dude' but plowed on anyway –_ she's an angel in a mortal's body… I know she is. She didn't ask for any of this and I've put her through so much, but she's trying to forgive me. Forgiveness is your calling card isn't it? Just help her with her family issues. She loves them and I'm the one who screwed up and she's paying for it because of me. Just help them work through this so that they can be a close-knit family again. The frayed edges are brutal on her and I want her to be happy. She's the only bright spot in my life and I know I don't deserve her…_

A glint in the stained glass window just ahead of him caught his eye. The sun was shining brightly outside, and a ray of light caught a green stained-glass eye on the face of the angel depicted on the window. It sparkled and twinkled for a moment and the brief warmth he'd felt in his chest was replaced by a warm squeeze in his hand. He looked to his right, into the world's bluest eyes, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze back. She smiled shyly, like they were little kids daring to hold hands for the first time and she leaned against his side ever so slightly but so that he could feel the warmth of her washing over him. He closed his eyes in exaltation; just soaking up the touch like a sun-bather on the beach soaks up the heat of the sun. He looked up towards the stained glass angel, got one more brief twinkle – almost a wink if he wanted to be hopeful – out of the eye, and then it was gone.

But Jessica's hand was still in his and he couldn't help but think that maybe his prayer had been heard.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A/N: Sappy – I know… but that adorable faith of his had to come from somewhere right? And not to spoiler for anyone who's not up to date on the episodes, but there will be no Brody in this story. Kripke throws one hell of a curve ball and there's no way to change what's been posted already cuz it screws with the whole fic. So sorry to you guys. It was a hell of an episode though, and I got to admit... I'm lovin' Crowley.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 14

Late July

It was his first '_preliminary_' interview with Dr. Cogsworth. He had taken in a sharp breath when he first entered the reception area. He should have expected it... but it was just like it was in the dream with Mel. Right down to the magazine covers on the coffee table. He couldn't read them before with all the letters screwed up, but he could read them now. _Brangie Adopts, Britney Goes Crazy, Lohan Goes Crazy, Lose Ten Pounds in Two Days Following This One Simple Step..._ You'd think the good doctor would have some more intellectual rags out here to read instead of the drivel being offered. But he supposed that a lot of the people coming in here would find the latest celebrity break-up to be ground breaking news. He spotted a nine month old, dog-eared copy of National Geographic at the bottom of the pile and pounced on it.

"Sam?" the receptionist called softly from her chair behind the desk. He looked up at her from the pictures of a Mayan Temple that was being reclaimed by the jungle surrounding it. "Dr. Cogsworth will see you now," she smiled, and he got the distinct impression that she was covertly checking him out.

_I'm a nut job as far as you're concerned Lady_, he thought, slightly offended as she followed him with her eyes as he pushed open the door to the shrink's office and stopped short. Again... he shouldn't have been surprised. It was the exact same as before when he'd been here, a voyeur in Mel's reality. Tasteful furniture, coffee tables, big desk with degrees framed and hung behind it… even a newspaper on the desk just like before.

Dr. Cogsworth got up from behind his desk to come over and shake his hand. "Mr. Winchester, how nice to meet you."

Sam shook his hand in return. The shrink seemed friendly, a bit pompous but no doubt his heart was in the right place. It wasn't as if many people were actually haunted by the supernatural, and most that did claim such a thing were just barking mad anyway. Most people, in his own experience, didn't seek the help of a psychiatrist when a big bad fugly was after them. They hid, they went nuts and wound up in an institution or they found people like his dad or Bobby to make the problem go away. They definitely didn't sit in a posh upscale shrink's office and talk about the spirit that wanted to kill them. Shrinks couldn't understand something like this unless they had been affected themselves. And there was no doubt in his mind that this doctor wouldn't believe in something like a zombie unless it was biting him on the ass.

"Thanks for meeting with me Dr. Cogsworth," he replied, smiling to himself and trying to figure out how he was gonna get all the information he needed from the man. If Mel had told him anything of consequence about the Shadowman, then he needed that information to kill the sonofabitch.

* * *

The next week when he went to Doctor Cogsworth's office, he had Jessica come along with him. The shrink had been a bit wary of the idea of couples counseling, claiming not to be a marriage counselor, but after some rather convincing play acting on his part, the good doctor agreed. Sam tried not to smile to himself too smugly on his way out, but he couldn't help but think about how useful that part of his past life would come in handy when he became a trial lawyer – the way he could manipulate people into doing what he wanted, or telling him what they knew.

"Did you really have to find a psychiatrist all the way over in San Jose?" Jess asked as she threaded her way through traffic while the two of them kept an eye out for a parking spot.

"He's got good credentials and I liked him best," he replied distractedly, suddenly pointing an arm in the direction of an empty space halfway up the block. Jess stepped on the gas to speed up so that the car next to her couldn't get in front of her and swipe the spot before her.

"What were his credentials?" she asked as she wrapped an arm around the back of his seat as she backed into the spot. Parallel parking wasn't her strong suit and it took a bit of wiggling back and forth to get the Colt in the space properly.

"He studied at U-Mass and Harvard, he did his time at Johns Hopkins Hospital, he had a practice in Boston for decades and came here several years ago probably to get away from the cold weather."

"You did your research," she smirked, finally throwing the old car into park and wrenching up on the parking break.

"Like I'm gonna bear my soul to just anyone," he rolled his eyes but it didn't have the desired effect he'd been looking for. Instead of a smirk, Jessica's face fell a bit.

"You're telling me," she said with a bit more venom than he'd seen in the last couple days.

"Don't Jess," he pleaded, reaching for her hand and holding on tight when she tried to snatch it away. "You know more about me than anyone Jess, but you know there are some things I'd rather just forget about."

She cast her eyes to her lap and her jaw clenched before relaxing. "I know. It was a cheap shot and I'm sorry."

"You don't have to say 'sorry' to me for anything Jess. This mess is my fault and I know that."

"It's just that…"

"Don't Jess. This is why we're here, so that we can learn how to get past this, remember?"

She actually squeezed his hand back and gave a small smile. "You're right. So let's go meet Doctor Cogswell."

"Cogsworth," he corrected.

She actually held his hand as they entered the building, and he tried to push the joy of that small act to the back of his brain as he had some casing to do. He was counting security cameras, the angles of the cameras, making note of the brand name on the security panel on the wall near the door. There was no security desk at the front, so there was no night watchman to look out for when he'd come back later to break into the doc's office. There was a camera in the elevator, which was pretty standard. When they left, he'd have to ask her to take the stairs so that he could look for cameras there too.

They sat in the reception area outside the doc's office. Jess picked up one of the rag magazines and started flipping through it while he surreptitiously scanned the room for more security features. There were no more cameras in this section, and the lock on the doc's office door was heavy duty in its understated opulence. He'd get through it though, there was no doubt in his mind that he could. His dad and brother were two of the best lock-picks in the country, and if they were of a more dubious nature, they could rob stores blind and forget about the low brow hustling and credit card schemes they were running.

"Sam?" the receptionist called from her desk. "Doctor Cogsworth will see you now." He got up and placed a hand on the small of Jessica's back, leading her to the door and opening it for her. He didn't miss the receptionist giving a dismissive glance in Jess's direction and he tried not to roll his eyes at the woman.

_As if…_

"Welcome back Sam," the shrink came forward to shake hands. "And this must be Jessica," he reached for her too and she smiled kindly at the man.

"It's a pleasure Doctor," she grasped his hand lightly. "Thank you for allowing us to do this, Sam told me you were a little hesitant about this arrangement."

"In light of what Mr. Winchester has told me about the situation, he made a rather convincing case for this sort of therapy." He smiled benevolently at her, and gestured towards the sofas for them to sit. He went to a small side board and came back with a tray of coffee cups, creamers and sugar packets. If the doc was anything, he was certainly accommodating.

After they were settled with their coffees, the shrink pulled out a yellow notepad and started in on the questioning. He was directing his questions at Jess first, just normal things like where she was from, what she had studied in school, her family… So while she was answering his questionnaire, he was discreetly looking around the office. No cameras here either, tinted windows so as long as he didn't flip the lights, there wouldn't be any way that someone could see him from the outside. There was a flat screen monitor on the desk, and well hidden wires leading down through a hole in the top of the desk just behind the monitor. If the tower was locked up in a cabinet under the desk, he'd just have to pick that lock too. Although the doc probably had the PC password protected, so he'd have to hack his way in. Again, he wasn't worried – he'd been hacking into networks since he was fourteen.

"Sam?" the shrink looked at him with some interest.

"Sorry Doc, I was just looking at that bookshelf you got there," he shrugged meekly, not having heard the question that had been posed to him.

_Gotta pay more attention._

"You like books do you Sam?" Cogsworth asked.

"I like them fine," he smiled. "But honestly, I was thinking of the first time I kissed Jessica. It was in the Stanford Library in front of a shelf full of reference books like those ones."

"Ahhh, a romantic study date was it?" Cogsworth smiled.

"Not really," Jess grinned. "We were there with a bunch of other students, and he only kissed me after he knocked me down flat on my rear." She giggled a bit at the memory. "I was so happy he'd finally kissed me, that I didn't pay any attention to the fact that my ass was killing me, but boy did it hurt the next morning."

He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried not to laugh himself. Things were so much simpler then.

* * *

He'd been lucky that he didn't run into anyone on the street. He had parked Jessica's car on the side of the road several blocks up and had managed to get all the way back to Cogsworth's office without being seen. It was dark out, or at least as dark as it got in a city full of streetlights. You couldn't see the stars here, the lights were too bright for all but the bravest stars.

He slipped into the alley alongside the building. It was dirty and dark back here, but not so bad as to remind him completely about his time spent in the Shadowman's sandbox. For one thing, it was dark but he could still see. For another, he wasn't unarmed. He'd emptied the metal lock-box that Dean had given him, stashing the knives all over his body, tucking the nine into the waist of his jeans. He'd loaded it with regular rounds, silver rounds and consecrated iron rounds. Something in that gun would fucking hurt anything that came at him. He had also filled a small flask with holy water and snatched the box of salt out of the kitchen cabinet. Jess was one of those low sodium nuts, and when they first moved in together she didn't understand why he always reached for the big cans of salt even though they didn't need to buy it. He was out of hunting, but he wasn't about to not keep on hand one of the best means of defense against all things supernatural.

He came to the end of the alley where it met the back of the building. It was ugly and dirty back here, and it smelled because of the dumpsters, but he didn't feel anything watching him or stalking him so everything was just peachy.

He saw what he was after – ten feet off the ground was a service ladder bolted to the outside of the three story building. Going in through the roof seemed like the safest way in. If there was a hatch or even better – a door to a roof access stairway – that would be the ideal way in. He could break in through one of the metal maintenance doors around the side, but they wouldn't have security key pads next to them, and there was no way he was going in through the front door. At least by going in through the roof, he could take the time to evaluate the security system and dismantle it properly without the danger of someone seeing him.

_(- - Mission Impossible Theme Music - -)_

He crouched at the bottom of the ladder, taking the book bag from his back and pulling out a length of slender but strong rope. He had weighted one end with a metal hook, and he gently started swinging it lasso style before letting it fly. It soared through a rung about five from the bottom of the ladder but it made an awful metal on metal clanging sound that must have alerted every person in a three block radius. He waited a moment, ear cocked and senses on overdrive from the adrenaline rush he was riding. He didn't hear any approaching footsteps or car motors so he carefully started pulling back on the rope hoping that the hook would catch the rung so that he wouldn't have to try again. If he stood here all night making that kind of a racket, then eventually someone would come looking. Thankfully, the hook caught the rung on the second toss. He gave it a good yank to make sure that everything would hold, slung his pack back onto his shoulders, and bracing his feet against the brick wall, walked his way up the wall where he grabbed onto the ladder rungs. He grabbed the rope and hook once his feet were firmly planted on the bottom rung, rolled them up and stuffed them back into the bag before climbing the rest of the way up.

He kept low to the roof as he crested the top. He didn't want to risk anyone seeing his silhouette from an adjacent building so he kept his large frame hunkered down as he scanned the roof for a point of entry.

There were several condenser units for the air conditioning – they weren't much use to get inside but at least they were good cover – there was a small shed like structure over the center of the roof that he assumed was the housing for the elevator mechanisms. It wasn't much good either as the shed was completely covered in metal siding leaving no doubt that he wouldn't be shimming his way down elevator cables like in Mission Impossible. A brief flash of Emilio Estevez getting creamed by an elevator landing on him crossed his mind.

_Or was it Charlie Sheen?_ he wondered idly, not being the movie buff that his brother was.

He spotted something that looked promising and skulked over to it.

_Yahtzee_, he heard his brother's voice in his head as he looked down on a roof hatch.

Two feet by three feet long, it was certainly big enough for him to get through. Dropping the book bag carefully on the roof, he pulled out a small flashlight. Cupping the end of it so it would be less visible should anyone look out a neighboring building, he got down on his knees and shone the light all over the circumference of the hatch. The lid sat over the edge of the raised opening like the lid of a gift box, so he had to lie on his back to get a good look at the underside. Running the light all over the underside, he found what he was looking for – the tell-tale red and yellow wires of a security system poked through the edge of the box lid. He ran the light over the edges again and found where the contacts were. It wasn't an elaborate system, and the years of being a watchman had given him an insight into how these things worked. If the contacts were separated when the lid opened, the alarm would go off. If he cut the wires, the power interruption would make the alarm go off. So the only course of action was to bypass the circuitry and fool it into thinking that the hatch was closed when it would in fact be wide open.

He rummaged through the book bag and came out with two paper-thin magnetized metal strips, two heavy lantern batteries, and a flat-head screwdriver. Using the screwdriver, he pried out the pins in the hinges at one end of the hatch, and then he wedged the thin metal strips in between the contacts of the sensors. Running wires from each plate to a battery, and then running wires from one battery to another to complete the circuit, he gripped the hatch lid at the hinge end and heaved upwards. He was dripping sweat from the effort, and he had to do it slowly so that he could make sure the magnetized strips didn't lose contact with the sensors, and he had to keep using one hand or another to re-adjust the strips, but eventually, the lid opened with a crack of heavy plastic as the closing mechanism broke under the strain of him wrenching on the lid in the opposite way it was designed to open.

He stood stock still and held his rapid breath as he listened for any sound from the alarm being tripped. Hearing nothing, he slung the pack on his shoulders again and lowered himself down through the hatch into the dark room below. Dangling by his hands for a moment, he dropped the final four feet to the floor.

He was in.

Pulling the flashlight from his pocket where he'd stashed it, he turned it on and wasn't surprised to see that he was in a janitor's closet as if the smell of cleaners hadn't been an indication. He tested the door knob, glad to see that it was the type that couldn't lock from the inside. Just how many kids and adults had been locked in closets accidentally before that system came into effect – he didn't know. Pulling the hood of his sweater up to hide his face, he edged out into the dimly lit hall, leaving the janitor's closet door slightly ajar in case he needed to get out in a hurry.

Keeping his head down, he headed for the stairwell. He wasn't overly concerned about the security cameras. So long as he didn't set off any alarms, there would be no reason for anyone to go back and watch them. And since there were no motion sensors on any of the cameras, there was no reason for the alarm to go off since he had already bypassed it. Still, he wasn't about to stick his face in front of the camera and stick his tongue out with a "_Na-nana-na-na!_" and a couple one-finger salutes to top it all off. '_Play it smart'_, another useful bit of advise from his dad. They guy was an asshole, but at least he was practical when it came to breaking the law.

Slipping past the fire doors into the stairway, he quickly descended to the second floor. Still keeping his head down, he went and knelt in front of Cogsworth's office door. Pulling the lock pick set from his pack, he went to work on the lock and felt the '_snick_' of the tumblers letting go and the door opening. Closing the door behind him, he looked around the dark room, letting his eyes adjust.

He was in. He was really in. It was exhilarating after so long out of the hunt to be back on a case. At least this one was centered around him. He was risking his neck for his own ass, and not some random stranger's, which was a switch.

The shrink's PC wasn't locked up, but it was password protected. He pulled his laptop from his bag, and while it was booting up, he removed the side panel from the PC tower. Running ribbon cables from his laptop to the hard-drive, he opened up a cracking program and let it get to work looking for the password. This could take some time, so he busied himself looking at the bookshelf, searching the desk drawers, and rummaging through just about everything.

Finally, after over an hour, the password was cracked and he was able to access all the Doc's files. He looked to see what the password was in case he'd need it at a later date and was a little surprised that it was 'Fetish' and he wondered briefly what sort of fetish the doc was into himself.

He opened up Windows Explorer, found that the psychiatrist was very methodical in his filing system and he easily located Mel's files and transferred them to the laptop. Scrolling down the list, he saw his own name near the bottom and curiosity made him copy his own files too.

_Mission accomplished_, he thought to himself, closing the laptop and logging out of the shrink's computer. Taking a cursory look around the room and deciding that nothing was as it shouldn't be, he slipped out of the office, back up the stairs and out the hatch in the janitor's closet. Closing the roof hatch, resetting the pins in the hinges and pulling the metal strips and batteries from the sensors, he shoved everything back into his book bag and started for the ladder.

His heart was pounding. He knew this wasn't the time to get complacent – he wouldn't be safe until he was back in Jessica's car and parked outside their apartment. He prayed that she hadn't woken up and sat up wondering where he was. It would be very hard to explain to her why he went jogging in the middle of the night with his book-bag. And if she somehow managed to get the bag from him, the laptop, tools, batteries and weapons would be very hard to explain to her.

* * *

He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

The shrink had a hidden microphone in his office that he used to record sessions with his patients. He wasn't sure how ethical it was on the Doc's part to record patients without their knowledge, but in light of what he was hearing – who the fuck cared?

He had the volume cranked as loud as it would go. Not because he couldn't hear Mel and Cogsworth, but because he heard something beyond those voices. Something in the white noise in the background that some would call the _'Ghost Frequency'_.

He had first heard it quite by accident. He'd been listening to the session when he'd been there, and during the recording, he'd caught a low static buzz that didn't quite fit with the rest. He went back, cranking the volume and heard his own voice. It was distorted and about a million miles away, but it was his voice. He remembered the conversation.

"_What does he want?"_ Cogsworth's refined accent was loud on the cranked speakers.

"_I don't know."_ Mel's voice was tired and scared and he couldn't block the unbidden image of her falling to her death.

"_Have you asked him?"_

"_What do you want?"_

"_It's here?"_

"_He's right there." _

"_Mel... Why is he haunting us? What does he want?" _His own voice – distant and staticy on the Ghost Frequency.

"_I don't know."_

"_What did he do to you?"_

"_He whispers, he laughs, and he tells me he has plans for me."_

"_What accident are you talking about?" _That had been the point where he'd been yanked out of the dream. He knew what accident she'd been referring to now. The one he saw in his head long before it happened. She had said the Shadowman had caused it, and while he was still reeling about hearing his voice on the recordings, he had to see if she had discussed the tragedy with the psychiatrist. He went back and listened to all the sessions between them. She hadn't been going there long and there were only a half dozen to go through. Mostly, she gave the shrink wise-assed remarks to all his questions. She certainly wasn't very co-operative and it was easy to see why the doctor had seemed a little irritated with her on occasion. At the rate that the shrink was charging him, the doc was probably a little miffed at someone squandering his very valuable time.

Finally he came to what he was looking for.

"_Your mother mentioned that you think an outside force caused the accident?_"

"_He appeared in the back seat... He reached for Amanda and she screamed and I swerved..._"

"_How can someone just appear in your car Melissa?_"

"_He does it all the time._"

"_You know that's not possible,_" Cogsworth said softly. "_No one can appear out of thin air. You imagined it Melissa_."

"_I imagined him reaching for my best friend and her screaming?_" There was a derisive tone to her voice that would have cut glass.

"_I think that the trauma of the event has made you remember things that didn't happen_."

"_Well at least you're not telling me it was an acid flashback. That's what my mom's prognosis is._"

"_That's not entirely impossible either_."

"_Except that I never did acid. The shit I was seeing and I wanted to make it more psychedelic? Yeah right,_" she scoffed.

"_What were you seeing Melissa?_"

"_Monsters. Under peoples skin. It was like seeing the skin of a person and it was stretched and distorted and there were monsters hiding beneath it. Like they were wearing people like they were suits_."

"_Did you see it on everyone? Do you see that on me?_"

"_No, you're clean. And it's only on the monsters_."

"_How many did you see?_"

"_One was one too many. But there were a few... they'd follow me sometimes. Smile at me like they were my friends only I couldn't run away when I saw one because they were fast. You turn around and they're behind you like they were always there._"

"_Did they appear out of nowhere too?_"

"_Stop belittling me Doc. I know how crazy I sound okay? But he's got plans for me_."

"_Melissa..._"

Cogsworth didn't get the rest out as Mel interrupted him with a brisk, "_Sorry Doc, gotta run. Hour's up._"

"_There's twenty minutes left._"

"_Not like you'll refund me the difference anyway._" There was a rustling as she grabbed her things and fled for the door.

The recording ended there, and he wondered what made her jump ship so fast. She'd been confiding in the shrink openly for once and then bolted like a scared rabbit. He paused for a moment to ponder what she'd told Cogsworth. She had been seeing monsters under the skin of people. They appeared out of nowhere and could move fast enough to get behind you without you seeing them move.

His skin broke out in a cold sweat as he remembered a drunken Bobby telling him and Dean a story some years before about a demon possesing a young man, and that he was trying to exorcize it out of the guy before it killed him because it was putting up one hell of a fight. Bobby had been telling them about how fast the thing could move and you had to be careful when dealing with demons because they were bad news. John had always left them out of the demon hunts because of the danger involved, and it wasn't as if there were many anyways. There were only a couple a year according to Bobby. So if Mel was seeing demons possessing humans, and she was seeing a couple... how many were out there? And if that were indeed what she's been seeing, why were they following her. Is that what was connecting them? Were there demons following him too? Is that what the Shadowman was? Was the Shadowman a demon? It would explain how he appeared out of nowhere in the back of Mel's car. And he certainly wouldn't blame her for panicking when the demon reached for her friend.

_Demons. Fuck._

He felt so stupid now that he knew what he was up against. How did he not realize this before? Demons fit the bill perfectly. Didn't mean that knowing what he was up against made it any easier. There was no way to kill a demon. You could exorcize them – send them back to hell. But they could come back again... if they managed to crawl back out of the pit. It could take decades for them to get back out, but that meant a life of looking over his shoulder if he managed to exorcize the sonofabitch.

Sam scrubbed his hands over his face. _Fucking demons_.

He went back and listened to Mel's session over again, this time paying rapt attention to the story she was giving and the demon theory took greater hold over him as he listened the second time. At the end of the session though, just before she bolted, there was a sound in the white noise. He backed the recording up and cranked the volume.

"_Stop belittling me Doc. I know how crazy I sound okay? But he's got plans for me_._"_

"_Melissa..._"

And there it was. The bone chilling, heart clenching laughter he'd heard in his dreams. The same laughter that chased him screaming out of the cavern room. The same laughter that mocked him, relishing the sight of his brother's blood on his hands. He'd appeared in the doc's office and Mel knew he was there. She fled to get away from him, maybe saving Cogsworth's ass in the bargain.

_He's watching us you know..._ She had said that just before she jumped. Was the Shadowman there that night? Was he right there, laughing at the two of them as Sam had tried to talk her away from the edge? Was her ability to see things that shouldn't or couldn't be seen the reason why the demon was after her? Was her ability the reason why she could see Sam when no one else could? Why she could talk to him, even though he wasn't physically there? And what about his own abilities? The visions he was getting and the apparent Astral Dream Projection bullshit that was going on. Where those the reasons why the demon was so interested in him, or were they caused by the demon? Mel had said that the Shadowman had been pushing her too far and that he was sending him to her to stop her from killing herself. But why didn't the demon stop her himself? Why bother sending him and risk the failure that happened? Nothing made any sense unless the demon just got off on screwing with people – which didn't sound so far-fetched according to the stories he'd heard from Bobby.

He played the laughter over and over. It made him sick to hear it, but it also made him angry. This sonofabitch was gonna pay for what he was doing. He was gonna pay for Melissa's suicide.

He turned up the volume as far as it would go.

"_Sorry Doc, gotta run. Hour's up_."

_You can't run from me little girl. I won't let you ruin my plans."_

He has plans for her. She said that to the doc and that was when the demon showed up in the therapy session. What were his plans? Did he have need of her abilities somehow? Did the demon need his vision abilities too and that was why he was after him?

He jumped when his phone went off in his pocket. Fumbling the cell because of his shaking hands, he looked at the display and frowned at the words 'Unknown Caller' flashing on the screen.

Flipping it open hesitantly, "Hello?"

* * *

A/N: I know nothing about breaking into buildings, bypassing security systems, or hacking into computer systems (frankly I'm amazed that I can post my stories without the entire Eastern Seaboard communications systems crashing). And it's not as if it's something you can Google without some black suits showing up on your front step to confiscate your gear – so mistakes are completely mine and completely made up so don't try this at home kids. I mean seriously, it would be way harder to break into a building than that.

Much love to you all. The alerts and favorites make my day and there's a special place in FicNation for those of you wonderful people who review and let me know what you think.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 15

"Hello?"

"_Sam?_" A deeply timbered voice reached his ear.

"Wilson?" he asked disbelievingly.

"_One and da same boy. I got some news fer you._"

"Same here," he answered, switching ears and closing the audio file of Melissa's therapy sessions. "Vegas money's on Shadowman being a demon. What did you find out?"

"_Same thin really. I had a nice long chat with the dead girl's daddy._"

"How'd you manage that?"

"_Not easy, let me tell you. Bringin' someone back from beyond the veil is hard work – and the spirit don't like it none either_."

"Are you alright?"

"_None the worse for wear. Lucky dat the girl's daddy wasn't the violent type. Told him I was fixin' to help someone out for vengeance on her part – he was real co-operative after that_."

"What did you learn?"

"_Seems that Teddy Pitero and his missus were tryin' real hard to have a child twenty-odd years ago. She kept miscarryin' you know. Anyways, they have a big fight one night, and Teddy, he takes off on her. He goes out to drown his troubles and runs into an old friend from school who was waitin' the tables_."

"Let me guess, it wasn't one of the guys from his old football team," he remarked dryly,

"_No it wasn't. Anyway, he goes off with her after her shift, they see each other a few more times, and then he calls it off. He don want to leave his wife, and he wants to work it out wit her you see. He and the missus keep tryin' for a baby, and den a few weeks later she tells him she's wi' child. You kin imagine how happy he was, but worrit too as she kept losin' them. Thins are going well for dem though, and she's another month in when he gets a call from the woman he'd been steppin' out wit from before. Turns out that she's wi' child too. He tells her that his wife is having his baby, and that he's sorry but he's stayin' with her. She pretty much tells him where to go, tells him dat she's keepin' the child whether he wants to be a part of their lives or not, and she hangs up on him_."

"What a douchebag," Sam muttered.

"_Don' go judgin' the man yet Boy, there's still more_."

"Sorry Wilson, go on."

"_So Teddy doesn't tell his missus about the other woman and the child of his that she's carryin'. He tries to put her out of his mind, but he's not a bad man at heart, just a stupid one dat made a mistake. He goes to see the other woman, telling her that he's sorry, and that he'll give her what he can_."

"How generous of him." Sam was pretty sure that Wilson could hear the eyeroll from the other end of the line and wondered on the possibility of Wilson's mind-reading mojo working via phone calls. It wasn't likely… He was fairly certain…

"_He goes home dat night and in the middle of the night his missus wakes him up to take her to the hospital. Seems that she's about to lose dis one too. He's pacing up and down a hall at the hospital, prayin' to God to help her. He said that a lady doctor come up to him and told him that his wife and child were dyin' but that she could save dem if he would agree to one small thing. Of course he agrees and tells her to do anything she can to save dem. She tells him that in a few months time, she would come visit the child and bring her a special gift if he'd allow her to do it. He agrees, not understandin' what the doctor was sayin'… thinkin' she's tryin' to distract him from his wife and baby dyin'. He says that she wrapped her arms 'round his neck and kissed him full on the mouth and then turns and walks away. Not twenty minutes later does a different doctor come find him and tells him dat wife and baby are gonna be jus' fine and dat it was a miracle. He tries to ask one of the nurses who the lady doctor was that saves his family, and is told that there is no doctor of that description in their hospital._"

"Not that that isn't a great story Wilson," he said, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice, "but what does that have to do with what's going on?"

Wilson sighed audibly. "_You never hear of a Demon Deal, Boy?_"

"A what?"

"_Demon Deal_," he said patiently. "_A demon promises you something you want in return for yer soul_."

"Why would anyone do that?" he asked incredulously. The thought of peddling your soul was incredibly stupid to him and he didn't understand why anyone would do such a thing.

"_Plenty o' reasons. Demons been harvesting folk's souls since da dawn of time for their hearts desire_."

"So his family lived but he was damned?" Well… that was as noble a reason as any to sell your soul. At least it wasn't for something as shallow as good looks or money.

"_Dat's what's funny though. I can't call on a spirit from hell – no one can. He wasn't trapped in hell but in heav'n_."

"So if this was a demon deal, but it didn't cost him his soul – what did it cost?"

"_Not sure, but it may not have been Teddy who had to pay da price_."

He scrubbed a hand down the stubble on his face. "You think the demon did something to Mel?"

"_Dat would be my guess, Boy. But what he did, I don' know_."

"Fuck," he whispered, angrily tossing a pen across the table where it skittered across the surface and clattered to the floor. Bad to fucking worse. Fucking demons. There was a reason that John didn't get them into the demon shit and that was because they were mean sonsofbitches and not to be trifled with. And if John went on some demon hunts with Bobby while they were growing up… well he hadn't heard any stories about them.

"_Got dat right._" There was a pause and Wilson cleared his throat. "_Boy, if da same demon is after the both of you, is it likely that one a yer parents made a deal too?_"

"No, that's not possible." The idea of his dad doing something like that was insane.

"_You tellin' me that if yer momma was in trouble, yer daddy wouldna do what he could?_"

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, not knowing what to think. "I don't know Wilson," he finally said. "I guess it's not impossible – it would have been before Dad learned of the supernatural or what a 'Demon Deal' was."

"_I_ _have da name of Teddy Pitero's otha child, Boy. You mighten want to see if the girl was the only one bein' hunted by the demon._"

* * *

Jay Barowitz – that was the name of Melissa's half brother – and Sam was having a hell of a time trying to find him. The guy just wasn't in the system. After high-school, he just fell off the map as far as he could tell. There were no tax records for him, no credit cards in his name, no employment history… no obituary either, cuz he was starting to wonder if maybe the guy was dead as there was nothing on him at all. And he had to be really careful not to alert Jessica to what he was doing. She still watched him so closely that he could hardly leave the room without her eyes following him. It was irritating beyond belief, but it wasn't as if he thought he deserved better. He was lucky she was even there and he knew it.

He hated working for the cell phone company too. He hated it with a passion that he didn't know he could possess for anything other than John Winchester.

The therapy sessions sucked too. He felt like such a douche wasting all that money on something that he was lying his way through. The only good part about it was that it was making Jessica feel better – so that made up for it. Although he felt like an idiot sitting in Cogsworth's office, holding Jessica's hand telling her how sorry he was for putting her through hell like he did. Her crying as he told her "Jess, it was completely my fault and I know that. There was nothing that you could have done that would have made it come out any differently. There was no way that you could have known what I was up to because I was hiding it from you and you trusted me and I let you down. I can't tell you how sorry I am, but I promise that I'll do whatever it takes to win your trust back. I love you." It wasn't as if he didn't mean every word, he just wished that he didn't have to tell her these things with and audience. Cogsworth was nice, if a bit pompous – but at least the coffee was good and he tried to get his money's worth in caffeine.

So things sucked all around right now. No new leads, crap job, Jessica still on tenterhooks around him that he just wanted to punch himself for getting caught…

He took a deep breath to settle himself. There was no point in getting angry now, not while he was on a service call with a client who for some reason didn't understand why her bill was so high, even though she sent about a thousand text messages during the month and talked non-stop while she wasn't texting. He shook his head wondering why some people were so stupid when it came to their phones.

"_But I didn't send all those messages! You can't charge me for something that I didn't do!_" The young girl was vehement, he'd give her that, but he was getting frustrated and the girl was seriously getting on his nerves if she thought that whining would get her off the hook on her bill.

"Well I can bring up the call log on your account…" he said, smiling to himself as he heard her slight intake of breath. "Lets see, on June 21st you made a total of thirty eight text messages. Aahhh… 'Darren, U R an asshole' was sent to 551-978-0301, 'Don't call me anymore' sent to the same number, along with 'I was with Adam that night', and 'You suck in bed asshole'." He was grinning ear to ear as he went on. "You were also sending a lot of texts that same day and the following to 551-982-0719… lets see, 'Adam I told him', and 'Darrens gonna kick ur ass', and 'Y were u calling ur X?'. I can keep going if none of these sound familiar to you, and if you're still certain that it wasn't you that was making these charges, you can take it up with the billing department. Although, I see on our records that you're seventeen, and therefore this would have to go through your parents as they had to sign for the plan for you. I can get a transcript of this sent to your parents so that they can argue this with the collections department," he said, adopting his best 'helpful employee' voice.

"_That won't be necessary,_" she said darkly.

"No no, it's no problem at all. I'll just print them up and send them in the mail." He was biting down his grin and the guy in the next cubicle had a hand clapped over his eyes and his shoulders were shaking, clearly hearing his side of the conversation and getting a good laugh out of it.

"_I'd like to speak to your supervisor_," she said with as much authority that a young girl's voice can have – which isn't much.

"Certainly Miss. I'll patch you through." He put her on hold and motioned for the laughing guy in the next cubicle to take the call. Dude wasn't his supervisor but would appreciate a further laugh when he pulled up the text messages himself. The girl had quite a potty mouth and apparently, as many scruples when it came to bedmates as his brother did. Sam didn't think that her parents would appreciate the behavior their little girl was exhibiting and was actually contemplating sending a print out of the texts to her parents. It would serve the girl right as far as he was concerned.

Okay, so other than screwing with people – his job sucked.

* * *

The weeks went on with not much further success. He still couldn't locate Mel's half brother, and was trying to use the time to learn everything he could about demons and demon deals. He could always call on Bobby for help – he was the Guru when it came to demons – but he didn't want to seek help from anyone if he could help it. Wilson was different as he wasn't family and their dealings with the old blind mystic were more than few and far between. As far as he knew, the old man hadn't spoken to John Winchester in several years and Wilson certainly hadn't mentioned any recent contact with John. Although… he was fairly certain that Wilson could be counted on to use his utmost discretion in all his business dealings.

He sighed as he scrubbed his hand over his tired eyes. The information he was looking at on the web right now was down right ludicrous. Obviously this site had been set up by some idiot chanting fake spells and waving crystals in his bedroom in his parent's basement. Dummy didn't even mention salt, which any supernatural novice learned first and foremost. Rule number one was keep your piece in perfect working order, and rule number two was always keep salt around. It was amazing the level of crap that was on some of these sites. He had found some good info here and there, but it was stuff he already knew – like the Latin exorcism. John may have kept them out of demon hunts when they were younger, but that didn't mean that he didn't drill the exorcism into their heads so that they could say it in their sleep. Well… he could. Dean always had trouble with memorizing Latin and had often complained about fuglies not coming along with the times and adapting to English.

He could always call on Bobby. That was starting to be a very tempting idea. But he just thought of the hopeful smile on Bobby's face when he dropped him off at that crap motel on Christmas Eve a lifetime ago, and how hurt the mechanic must have been to find out that he'd skipped out on the two of them. Sam hadn't even returned any of Bobby's calls those first few weeks… and felt like shit for grouping Bobby into that mess that Dean made. Bobby's had always been a safe harbor while growing up, and he'd cut him out of his life as surely as he'd cut out his dad and brother. So calling the Guru of all things supernatural was a feat that required more courage than he had right now. He just couldn't tell a man that he'd admired since he was a kid that there was something dark in him and he was becoming one of the freaks that they hunted. He couldn't look at Bobby's face as the news struck him anymore than he could look at Dean's – so calling for help from the family was still out. And he wasn't stupid enough to lie to himself that it wasn't just as much about pride and self-preservation as shame and guilt and cowardice. Nope. Not gonna lie to himself about that one.

But if he didn't start digging some shit up soon, he wouldn't have much of a choice.

* * *

Early August

He got his LSAT results back. He was looking at the manila envelope with the biggest feeling of dread imaginable. He didn't even remember writing the stupid thing. The entire test had been one long blur of heart racing paranoia so he really wasn't looking forward to opening the ominous envelope. He was still sitting at the table and pointedly ignoring the thing when Jess got home from the restaurant.

"Good news Sam," she called from the front door. He could hear the door to the front closet shutting as she kicked her sneakers into it.

The smile she was wearing as she came into the kitchen had him get up from his seat and cross over to her. He reached out and gently grasped her hand in his as he leaned back against the counter and drew her a little closer. The physical contact was getting better between them. He no longer worried about her jerking her hand away from him if he touched her, but everything was at a junior high level. Scratch that. They were like twelve year olds terrified to kiss each other for the first time. He longed to wrap his arms around her and kiss her like he used to – to feel her heart-rate jump and her breath catch as lips met lips and hands met other parts and passion didn't have distinct boundaries and limitations. He still didn't dare to push her in that direction. Any progress they made was completely up to her because he had a lot of ground to cover to earn her trust back and there was no point in trying so hard if he didn't get that trust back. All he wanted was to get back to where they were before everything got screwed six ways from Sunday.

"What's the good news Jess?" The smile she was beaming at him was infectious and he couldn't help grinning back at her and squeezing her hand a little tighter.

"I've got another job interview tomorrow." She bit her lip expectantly and her eyes were glowing with excitement.

"That's great!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and hugging her against him. Her arms went around his waist and he allowed himself to sink into the warmth of the embrace. "Where's it at?" he murmured into her hair.

"Well it will be a couple of different schools," she explained, pulling back a bit to look him in the face but not so far as to remove herself from his arms. "It's a substitute position for several elementary schools around The Willows and Lindennwood but I think I have a good shot at it. A teacher friend of Dad's said she'll put in a good word for me."

"That's great Jess." He hugged her again, not wanting to let her go just yet. "You'll blow them away."

"I hope so." She squeezed his waist a final time before seeing the envelope on the table. "What's that?"

"Oh… It's my LSAT results." He still didn't want to open it and should have put it in his desk drawer or something.

"Well?" she demanded, smacking him lightly on the arm. "What did you get?"

"I don't know – I didn't open it yet."

"Well open it up Baby," she said while reaching for the results and handing them over to him. It had been a long time since she'd called him '_Baby_' and he missed the nickname more than he ever would have guessed.

He slid a finger under the flap and hesitated. "Jess – I was pretty out of it when I wrote this." It was hard for him to admit that to her. Every instinct he had said to keep lying to her and hiding his weaknesses. But there were enough things he had to lie about when it came to his life, so he felt like he owed her a bit of honesty where he could give it.

"Then you can re-write it in September and go for the average score of the two. Hell… Write it as many times as you want."

She was right. He could write it again and apply for entrance in different law schools for the new semester in January. But he just couldn't tear open that letter and instead handed it off to Jess to open.

Her face went slack a bit and her jaw dropped as she whispered, "Oh my God."

His stomach clenched at the look on her face. There was no way that he did well on this thing and all dreams of becoming a trial lawyer just took flight like a flock of frightened birds. "That bad, huh?"

"Sam," she paused, looking up at him with a smile growing on her face. "You got a one-seventy."

"A what!" He grabbed the paper from her pro-offered hand and looked for himself. He didn't believe it was possible. It shouldn't be possible. But there was a big fat 1-7-0 staring back at him in black and white and how the fuck was that even possible when he was so wasted when he wrote it?

"I don't believe it," he whispered, disbelief still clouding him.

"You got a one-seventy when you were completely wasted on pills?" Her eyebrow shot up in the air as she looked at him. "What would have happened if you wrote it sober?" she joked but it didn't feel like a joke to him.

"Well, we'll find out in September. I'm gonna write it again." There was a bit of and angry edge to his voice that even surprised him a little.

"What? Why would you do that? One-seventy is incredible. You can get into nearly any school you want to with that."

"One-seventy is good. But I don't feel like I deserve it – I feel like I didn't earn it. Jess… I don't even remember writing my name on the damn test."

"Baby, that mark in incredible! You're a freaking genius and you're going to write that killer test again? Why would you do that to yourself?"

He tossed the envelope casually on the counter and pulled her close to him again. Wrapping her in a hug and breathing in her hair when she relaxed against him, he said, "I didn't earn that mark Jess. And I'm not afraid of hard work when it comes to something I want bad enough." He kissed the top of her head so that there would be no doubt in her mind that she was included in the things he wasn't afraid to work hard for.

She looked up at him then, blue eyes shining and a small smile playing with the corners of her mouth. "I love you," she said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him softly on the lips.

His heart leapt at the contact, and he had to forcibly restrain himself from sinking his hands in her hair to hold her lips to his for the rest of eternity. Instead, he returned the kiss just as gently as she had offered it and it was over all too soon for his liking.

It was the first time she'd kissed him since before the whole overdosing incident, and the first time she'd told him she loved him since that argument after he got out of the hospital when he thought he'd lost her for good. Hearing the words this time gave him a feeling of hope that burned in his chest and lit his veins with a raw fire that seared him from the inside out. He wanted to pick her up and carry her to their room like he used to and make love to her until morning.

Knowing full well that she wasn't ready for that next step yet, he whispered "I love you too," instead.

* * *

It had been a few days since he'd turned on the laptop as he wasn't having much luck with the research or the locating of Jay Barowitz' whereabouts. The whole thing was really depressing that he hadn't found any leads on the guy, and he hadn't found anything useful to use against demons. So it was a real surprise when he logged into his e-mail and saw a message there from someone he didn't know. A bit wary, he first scanned it with an anti-virus program before he opened it.

'_Saw your IP address showing up at a bunch of those hack-ass sites. You should be more careful. If you're looking for usable info on the fuglies, check out my site.'_

There was a link to a website which was nothing but a string of numbers, and the short message was signed '_Dr. BadAss_'

He had some serious misgivings about going to the site. First of all, who was this guy? Second, how did he trace his IP address from all those sites he'd visited, and then found his e-mail address? Was he being watched? And by whom? Could the Shadowman be behind this? A trap set for him?

Taking a deep breath he pressed on the link and waited for the site to load, thinking to himself, "_What the hell, right?_" So he was shocked to see the site that popped up in front of him. It was scary in its simplicity and straight-forwardness – although the Lynard Skynard soundtrack reminded him of days gone by and his brother belting out the virtues of Southern Women from his place in the front of the Impala.

There were links to lists of supernatural creatures and their habits/habitats, along with methods of killing them or trapping them. Some of the methods listed were ones that he knew worked – like wood-elves could only be trapped in a box made of oak and bound with copper straps. Also on the site was a map of the country with points scattered across it like obscene freckles. He clicked on one point in Nebraska and a window opened showing a PDF file of a newspaper article talking of wolf sightings outside North Platte, along with another PDF article about a man that was found ravaged in that same area. The newspaper assumed animals attacked the man, while a quote from a police officer stated that the exact condition of the body was not going to be released due to their ongoing investigation. He glanced at the dates on the articles and then flipped back a few months on the calendar on the wall. Full moon that week – sounded like a werewolf case to him.

He spent the next couple of hours combing Doctor BadAss's site, thoroughly impressed with it and wondered if the good Doctor was a hunter or someone in the know. He was obviously someone who knew a lot about computers since he was able to track him down by recognizing a recurring IP address from random sites. Was this guy some sort of watchdog?

Despite all the wariness he had for the circumstances, he had to admit that this site was by far the best one he'd seen. He was particularly drawn to the section on demons where everything was spelled out from recognizing demon possession to the Latin Exorcism – written phonetically in brackets on the tricky words – to how to deal with them when you came on one. What really caught his interest was a section showing diagrams for demon traps, summoning rituals, banishing rituals and general do's and don'ts of demon affiliation. They were mostly don'ts. The only '_Do_' was "_Exorcize the fuck out of them_."

He printed the diagram of the demon trap – titled 'The Key of Solomon' so that he could memorize it. He hastily tucked the paper into this pocket and turned off the website and switched windows so that the only thing on the laptop was the MSN homepage. Jess was fumbling with the lock on the door and he couldn't let her see these things.

She came bursting into the room like a blast of sunshine on a cloudy day and flew at him, giving him a fierce hug and an excited squeal.

Laughing, he asked, "What's going on Jess?" Whatever it was, it was good news and he could use some of that right now.

"I got the job in Lindennwood!" she squeaked, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck in her excitement.

"I knew you would!" He actually lifted her off the floor when he hugged her back – much to her delight. He kissed her forehead but she caught his cheeks in her hands and gave him a hearty smooch on the lips in return. Her eyes were dancing when she stepped back.

"I can't believe I got it," she gushed. He half expected her to start twirling in the middle of the kitchen and he laughed again. He missed this Jessica. The Jessica that got excited over everything and laughed and joked and was so free with her affection that for a second his heart contracted at the memory of it.

He pulled her to him again and relished in the warmth of her body against his. "This is awesome news Jess. We should celebrate. What do you want to do?" The wedding was two weeks away, and with everything else that was going on, they could really use a night to themselves just to have some fun.

"We haven't been to a movie in a long time…" she mused.

"Whatever you want to see Jess."

"Isn't there one you'd be interested in seeing?"

"This is your celebration. When I re-write my LSAT and get into a kick-ass law school, then it'll be my turn to pick the flick."

"Anything I want?" Her eyebrow quirked up with mischief and a smile pulled up the corners of her mouth.

"Anything you want."

"Okay, I want to see that new Jennifer Lopez Rom-Com," her eyes danced as she tried to hold in her giggles.

"You couldn't even say that with a straight face!" He poked her in the stomach and grinned when she burst out laughing.

"Yeah, you know me too well for that one. I want an action flick. Something with lots of explosions and little storyline."

"Big guns and gallons of fake blood?" He poked her again and she sank against him, resting her arms comfortably around his waist and burying her face against his neck so that he could feel the soft puffs of warm breath on his skin.

"It's a date," she sighed happily.

* * *

He sent a reply e-mail to the mystery guy thanking him for the link to the website while Jess was in the shower getting ready for their date. Not three minutes later he got a response saying "_The Doctor is always in Brother_." So he sent another one asking him who he was and what did he know of the supernatural. A few minutes later he got a reply of "_Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies._"

"Dude's definitely a hunter," he rolled his eyes and shut down the laptop quickly as Jess had just opened the bathroom door and he caught a glimpse of her in a short towel as she crossed the hall to their room. He wondered idly about the likelihood of him being in her good graces enough to try for a little extra affection later and immediately rejected that idea. That was going to be her call – not his.

* * *

The movie was your general big budget action movie. Big guns, big explosions, cheap laughs… but Jess loved it and that was all he could ask for. He took her for ice cream afterwards and ignored her when she said that she had to fit in her dress in two weeks. They walked with his arm around her shoulders and it was so much like old times before he messed it all up. He pushed the thought of Mel and the demon and dead Dean away. They were not going to interfere with them tonight because this was Jess's night.

At home that night, and after he'd snuck in a few minutes to down Wilson's tea so that it scorched his mouth, he climbed into bed with his angel who immediately cuddled into his side and draped her arm across his stomach just like she always used to.

"Thank you… for tonight…" she whispered, reaching up to kiss his cheek before pillowing her face on his chest and promptly falling asleep.

He'd been hoping for a bit more than that, but she was tucked up safe and warm against his side and her hair was tickling his face and chest and that would be enough for now because God-_Damn_ how he missed the feel of her hair tickling his face.

* * *

A/N: I am at a stunned loss for words after the season finale. Trust me, that is a truly rare phenomena. Loved it of course, but now I have to survive the next four months waiting to see what happens... I'll have to feed my obsession with writing.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: In honor of Jensen Ackles marrying his long-time girlfriend last weekend (I am _soooo_ not green with envy) I give you guys "The Wedding".

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 16

Late August, 2005

With all the activity the last few weeks and all the non-stop wedding talk, it was hard to believe it was finally here. He was running around like crazy doing favors for the happy couple and all the parents that were too busy and stressed doing other essential last minute errands. He was a bit more expendable with his time table – or so he was told. Just this morning he made three different trips to the airport to pick up relatives and take them to hotels or to the homes of other relatives where they would be staying. Jess was tied up with last minute dress fittings for both her and the other girls in the wedding party. Nina was apparently a wreck and would start crying or snap at someone at the drop of a hat.

"Wedding Mood-Swings," Jess had muttered over breakfast that morning before she left for the dress boutique with her sister. He wondered how much longer Nina would keep the pregnancy a secret because he had to be careful that he didn't let anything slip to Jess so that she would find out.

There was a list on a piece of paper stuck to the front of the fridge with arrival times on it. He was responsible for picking up Jessica's aunt at 9:15am, her Nana at 11:20am and one of her cousins at 1:30pm. Auntie was going to a hotel because there was some riff between her and Jess's mom, Nana was staying with Jess's parents for the week, and her cousin was staying with another cousin here in town. He felt like he should be wearing a chauffer's hat and holding his hand out for a tip. It was a little uncomfortable picking up relatives that he hadn't even met but he would help out where he could. He was getting back on track with Jess, but things would be a hell of a lot better if he could get back in the good graces of the family. At least her parents had been discreet enough not to mention his '_problems_' to anyone who didn't already know. So at least he wouldn't have to fight that stigma with all the new relatives he was about to meet.

Meeting Nana Moore for the first time was worth all the trouble with traffic.

If Jessica was sweet and kind and golden, Nana was a foul tongued sailor on shore leave for the first time in three years. Never before had he ever heard such a sweet looking old woman say the F-word so much. He nearly slammed the Colt into the back of a Protégé when she exclaimed "Fucking cabbies!" at a yellow cab that had cut across in front of them. He snorted with laughter when she leaned out the window to give the driver the finger.

"Mrs. Moore – you're going to get us shot at," he chuckled.

"Big sturdy boy like you should be near bullet-proof," she grinned back at him. "I'll just use you as a shield."

"How was your flight in from Miami?" he asked as he threaded through traffic.

"Dreadful. I was next to this pig of a man who stank like yesterday's shitty diapers. He must have weighed three of me and kept eyeing my in-flight-sorry-excuse-for-a-meal like he was considering snatching it out from under my fork mid-bite."

"What would you have done if he had tried?" he glanced over his shoulder to see if it was clear to change lanes.

"Stab him in the prick with my fork."

He jerked the wheel sharply and had to compensate for the over-correction before he was safely going straight again. He didn't even want to think about what Dean would say about his lack of driving skills today. "Sorry about that Mrs. Moore," he apologized, seeing the elderly woman with her frail looking arms braced against the dashboard.

"No Trouble. Tell you what… You get us there in one piece and you can call me Nana, Dear."

"Deal."

"So are you going to the bachelor party tonight Dear?"

A little embarrassed, he answered, "Yeah, but I don't think I'll stay long."

"But you'll miss the strippers," she insisted. "I heard a rumor that you all were going to 'The Treasure Chest' and that you had the 'Buccaneer's' room."

That was the plan that he'd heard, still, how the hell did Nana know about that? "How did you hear about that?"

"I'm old Dear, not deaf – or dead for that matter."

"So are you going to the bachelorette party then?" he joked.

"Of course I am. I've been skipping Bingo the last couple of weeks so that I'd come prepared with a big wad of cash." She patted her oversized handbag and smiled at him. "It's been a long time since I've seen male exotic dancers."

"The girls got strippers too?" That was news to him. Of course he'd never say anything to Jess about it. If one of them was the trustworthy one – it was her. Not that he'd ever think of touching another woman – not when he had a bonafide angel at home – but it was part of the reason he was thinking of cutting out on the bachelor party early. He just didn't think that she would approve.

_Awkward_.

He felt uncomfortable going to a strip club with his brother back in his freshman year… he couldn't imagine how uncomfortable it would be going with a bunch of guys he barely/didn't know or who were nearly relatives to him now. He didn't want to be watched and judged by all the cousins and friends of the family that would be there.

"Mmhmm, I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to it. A bit of dirty fun is what keeps you young you know."

"Then you sound like you should be about twenty-five then," he chuckled.

"If I were that young again, I'd ask you if you had a brother."

"I do have one," he admitted, not seeing the harm in telling her that much. "And he likes older, feisty women too."

"Is he as big as you, Dear? I'll admit that I have a weakness for big men."

"He's not as tall, but he has enough ego to make up for it."

"Sounds like my kind of man," she laughed and Sam smiled at the sound of it. For all that Jess was tall and fair and sweet, she and her grandmother had the same laugh. "I think that Jessica and Nina must have inherited their preference in men from me…" she trailed off. "I'm told that you don't speak with your family much," she said rather abruptly.

"Aahhh, well… no. Not really," he stammered. "There have been problems since I was young… and…"

She waved him down from his awkward stuttering. "You don't have to tell me about family issues, Dear. There are two purposes to family. One is to drive you up the fucking wall, the other is to be there when you need it. I had a spat with one of my sisters that lasted the better part of twenty years."

"Whoa, what happened?"

"She tried to sleep with my husband."

"What?" He jerked the wheel again and earned a horn blast from the car next to them. Nana gave him the finger too.

"Well, my first husband. He died in the Korean War before we were even married a year. I was a widow at twenty years of age."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"My first husband was a drunk and a skirt chaser," she shook her head in disgust. "Terrible in bed too – too self-centered, but he was big and easy on the eyes." He didn't have to forcibly keep himself from swerving again.

_Must be getting used to her_, he thought.

"…So let's hope that you're a bit more generous in the hay for my granddaughter's sake..."

He swerved violently and gripped the wheel with a white-knuckled death grip.

"One piece, remember?" she groused. Shaking her white-haired head, she said, "So tell me about Dave. I only met him the once and he seemed to me to be the sort who would be very inventive…"

Yeah, Nana was a treat.

* * *

"So there are strippers at the Bachelorette party tonight?" He asked from where he was seated on the bed and watching Jessica as she played with her hair in front of the mirror.

"Where'd you hear that at?" She dropped the handful of blond curls where she'd been piling them on her head and half turned towards him.

"Nana told me. She's planning on blowing her Bingo money by stuffing it in the G-string of the buffest dancer you've got."

Jess rolled her eyes. "Sounds like Nana to me. Would you believe that a few years ago some of the other residents in her senior's condo complex tried to get her kicked out for '_wanton behavior_'?"

"What did she do?"

Jess snorted. "Mom said she probably got caught sleeping with the president of the council – by his wife."

"How'd she get out of trouble?" He wasn't sure how much he wanted to hear the answer as Jess screwed up her forehead in consternation.

"Probably slept with the rest of the council."

"Man Jess," he barked, "You're Nana is great." She eventually lost the scrunched up nose and laughed too. For a moment he tried to envision sweet, tiny little Elsie Murphy cursing a blue streak like Nana and he laughed out loud again.

_I should really send Pastor Jim a letter – maybe put a picture of Jess in it_.

"She's one in a million alright." She sank on the edge of the bed next to him and he automatically put an arm around her shoulder and held her tight against him. She leaned against him and pillowed her cheek on his shoulder.

"So… Strippers?" he quirked his eyebrow at her and she stifled a giggle into his shoulder.

"Yeah… Can't say that I won't laugh my ass off at grown men shaking their asses off in front of me though. I've never seen male dancers before."

"If you want, I'll go to the store and change a twenty into singles for you, then you and Nana can go dollar for dollar."

"You really liked her, didn't you?"

"Hard not to. I couldn't guess what was gonna come out of her mouth next. It made for an interesting drive up the freeway though – what with her shouting out the window and giving everyone the finger." He squeezed her for a second and kissed the top of her head. "You should finish getting ready – Amber will be here soon to pick you up."

She stood and stretched lazily and he allowed himself to admire the view. "You boys are getting a show too aren't you?" she asked over her shoulder, mouth twitching up at the corners as she caught the faraway look on his face.

"Yeah, but I think I'll cut out of there before that part. I'd feel a little out of place I think."

"You can't bail on a bachelor party!" she exclaimed. "That's… _sacrilegious!_"

He laughed outright at that. "Jess, for a church girl, you've got a strange concept of what constitutes sacrilege."

"You know what I mean!" she smacked him on the arm. "It's part of the whole thing. You can't bail on account of me."

"I can't believe you're basically forcing me to watch strange women pole dance."

"Well maybe I can give you a reason to want to come home… afterwards." She snaked her arms around his neck and he leaned down to meet her, expecting something like she'd given him the day she found out she got the substitute position in Lindennwood.

He was wrong.

She pressed herself full against him and opened her lips to him for the first time in nearly two months. The blood suddenly rushing away from his head had him nearly falling over on her and he buried his hands in her curls on instinct alone. He'd forgotten the utter sweetness of her lip gloss and the delicate softness of the lips he'd missed so much. He felt like a man that was dying of starvation and he was completely famished for the woman in his arms. It had been so _long_ since this level of intimacy and passion had been reached that he couldn't stop himself from picking her up by the backs of her thighs and sitting her on the top of the bureau, pressing into her like he wanted to be absorbed into her by osmosis. She apparently felt the same way because she tugged at the hem of his shirt and he broke away from her long enough to strip it off and toss it to the floor before attacking her mouth again while hungry hands ran up and down his chest and stomach.

His own hungry hands were traveling under her shirt and up her smooth, warm back, and she was fumbling with his belt when the doorbell rang. They both gave a breathless curse and he backed away from her, letting her slide off the dresser and onto the floor where she wobbled slightly and grabbed the edge of the bureau to steady herself.

Amber was early.

She bit her lip, "Rain-check?" she panted.

* * *

He had more fun at the bachelor party than he would have guessed. Dave's brother Jeremy was the sort who didn't allow you not to have a good time. It probably stemmed from his recent return from a place where he was shot at regularly and he was a 'Live in the moment' kind of guy. Where Dave was tall and lean, Jeremy was tall and broad and always smiling and it was impossible not to like the guy.

"Whooo!" Jeremy cheered raucously, holding a beer up in the air and earning a generous booty shake from the dancer on stage. "Whooo! Shake it!" The dancers seemed to like him too as they favored him more than the groom who was off to the back a bit and trying to drunkenly laugh off his rowdy-marine brother.

Sam sidled up and sat down next to Dave. "How you holding up Man?" he asked.

"I think if I drink much more, you guys will have to carry me up the aisle tomorrow." Dave was grinning drunkenly and leaning to one side slightly. "It'll be Nina carrying **me** over the threshold," he snorted.

"We can always lash you to Jeremy during the ceremony so that you stay upright," Sam joked.

"Yeah, and have Mark ready with a bucket so I don't ruin Nina's dress."

"What are best men for, right?"

"Damn straight." Dave held his beer bottle aloft slightly and he clinked his bottle against his. "I'm glad that you and Jess are toughing things out Man. I like you."

"You are drunk."

"No. Seriously. Even Nina thinks so too."

"Nina wanted her to leave me," he rolled his eyes. "Not that I blame her."

"That was right afterwards," Dave flapped a hand dismissively, sloshing a bit of beer out as well. "She was ready to rip your head off when Jessica came and stayed with us for those first few days when you took off." Dave took a long swig of his beer and nearly tipped over. "But even Neen has to admit how hard you're trying to make things right. You aren't on any drugs now… are you?" He eyed his beer speculatively as if he suddenly thought it was full of some liquid narcotic.

"No, I'm not on anything. And beer was never the problem."

"No… I guess it wasn't. How are you doing on that front? Any withdrawal? Shakes? Nausea?"

Sam knew what answer to give the guy although he didn't really feel anything of the sort and he didn't doubt that it had something to do with Wilson's miracle tea. "The shakes were pretty bad at first. I'd wake up and be really nervous and jittery. The nausea only lasted the first week and then that passed. I tried really hard to not let it show to Jess… she was under enough strain as it was."

"So how's the therapy going?"

"I feel like an idiot telling her that I'm sorry in front of an audience. Cogsworth is nice enough, and it's making Jessica feel better, which is the main point."

"Good man. It's always about making the woman feel better," he laughed.

He shrugged. "I'm the one who screwed up."

"And you're the one who's gonna get her back." He held out his bottle again and Sam met it with his.

"God I hope so," he drowned the muttering with a swig of beer.

"You will." There was fresh cheer erupting from the club and both men looked towards the stage at Jeremy who had climbed up on the dance floor with the girls and was swinging drunkenly around the pole when he tripped over his own feet to land head first on one of the other partiers tables. He got up holding his head and laughing, and blew a kiss to the giggling girls on stage.

Dave rolled his eyes. "Think we can pawn him off on Nana tomorrow at the reception?"

"Do you think she'll keep him out of trouble, or he'll keep her out of trouble?"

"I'm thinking of keeping the trouble centrally located."

"Sounds dangerous – Nana might make a pass at him."

"Poor Nana. Jeremy just spent the last ten months in Iraq. But it's the only plan I got," Dave shrugged.

"We could always lock one of them in a closet," he offered helpfully.

"Better be Nana. Jeremy would just use his jar-head as a battering ram to get to the open bar."

They both laughed and Sam said, "How much longer are you and Nina keeping the big news secret?"

Dave started a moment, before relaxing. "That's right, you know about that. You didn't tell Jess?"

"Not my news to tell."

"Aren't you afraid that she'll get mad at you for keeping it from her?"

"The only people that know are people that are keeping it from her. You guys turn me in, I'm taking you all. Down. With. Me," he smirked.

"You, my friend, are gonna make one hell of a lawyer one day. Cheers." They both drained what was left of their beers and slammed the bottles down on the table. A waitress looked over at the noise and wagged an empty bottle at them, asking if they wanted refills. Dave waved her off, and a second later, he did too. He really didn't need anymore booze tonight, and he wanted to be in functioning order when he got home. The promise in Jessica's eyes was a lure too great to resist.

* * *

It was the incessant blaring of the alarm clock that woke him to the late morning sunshine the next day. At first he didn't understand why he couldn't sit up, until he realized that the dead weight he was feeling wasn't him, but a passed out Jessica lying across his chest.

_I didn't even wake up when she came home. Getting rusty…_

"Jess?"

"Mmmph?" she muttered, blearily lifting her head and blond curls obscuring her vision. "Ow." She sank her head back down on him and tried to burrow her face into his neck.

The familiar contact was like a homecoming, and as much as he wanted to just lie there and soak up the warmth that was Jessica, she had a lot to do today.

"Jess," he nudged her head gently with his shoulder. "Jess."

"Meh?"

"You gotta get up."

"Don't wanna…" she burrowed her way back against him, draping an arm across his stomach and a leg over his and _damn_, he really didn't want to get up now.

"You have to go and get your hair and make-up done."

"Ugh."

"Your mom is picking you up in an hour."

"Wake me in thirty," she groaned.

He rolled his eyes at her stubbornness. "How was the bachelorette?"

"Nuh-uh. What happens at the bachelorette, stays at the bachelorette," she mumbled into his arm.

"So Nan didn't get you all arrested?"

"No, but she did offer to be the sugar mama to Big Bad Billy."

"Eww."

"Got that right." She rolled over onto her back and pushed the hair out of her face.

"How much did you drink last night?"

"I don't know." She draped an arm over her face so that her eyes were buried in the crook of her elbow. "Everyone was buying Nina drinks left and right, and she kept passing them off to the rest of us."

"She must not have wanted to be hung-over during the ceremony." _And drinking while pregnant is really bad too…_

"Yeah, probably… This whole wedding business is crazy."

"Yeah, well, after today, it's all over. But first," he gently grabbed the wrist of the arm that was hiding her face, "You've got to get ready for your mom to pick you up…"

* * *

The organist at the front of the church just changed music sheets and he found that he felt as apprehensive as the groom looked. Dave and the others had managed to not need to be lashed to each other, and although Dave was standing under his own power, he looked like his knees were about to buckle any minute. Jeremy looked like he was fresh as a daisy, as if he didn't drink enough last night to paralyze a draft horse. Mark was half way between the other two. Not looking like he was about to pass out, but definitely not as chipper as Jeremy.

He was seated in the second row next to Amber as Mark was her date and was busy with Groomsman duties. Amber had jokingly referred to Sam as '_Her date_' and he was curious how Mark had managed to make the infamously fickle Amber Juarez so smitten with him. He could only guess that it was because Mark didn't pander and pamper her like most guys did, and that level of semi-disinterest must have made the Mexican beauty determined to win him over despite the long line of guys that were more than eager to give her the attention that she wanted. He had to wonder if it was all a master ploy of Mark's to keep her interested in him and he had to give the guy credit for being ballsy enough to try it.

But the music had changed and everyone stood up to watch as the wedding began. First up the isle was Nina's childhood friend who flew in a few days ago from Nevada. She was a pretty but plump brunette and the cut of the bridesmaid dress was very flattering on her as she glided her way slowly up the isle.

His breath caught in his chest as Jessica emerged from the back of the church. He hadn't seen her since that morning and he actually forgot to breathe as she made her elegant way up the isle. Her golden curls were piled on her head and some ringlets were picked loose to frame her expertly made face. The make-up artist had wisely gone with colors to enhance Jessica's natural beauty so that she appeared glowing and ethereal. The silvery-ice-blue material of the dress was stunning with the clarity of her skin and perfectly matched with the white and pale pink carnations in the bouquet she was carrying. Amber reached behind her to squeeze his hand briefly before bringing up her camera to snap a picture of her as she walked by. The smile that she gave him nearly made his knees give out and he understood why Dave looked like he was about to pass out. You just couldn't bear to hold in all that love for one person on a day like this.

If Jessica was an ethereal being, Nina was simply resplendent. The white dress flowed from her like a living organism, trailing behind her in adoration of the goddess she was at that moment. He stole a quick glance at Dave and the smile on the guy's face was enough to make him feel a little teary – as girly as that sounded. But he couldn't blame the guy for the look of utter happiness on his face – Nina was absolutely stunning and she had eyes for her Groom only. Her dad even gave him a slight nod as they passed him and Amber, and Amber had both her camera and a tissue clutched in her hands as she blew Nina a kiss.

With some formality, Nina and her father reached the Alter, and he handed Nina's hand to Dave and took his seat in the front row. Since this was Sam's first wedding, he wasn't entirely sure of what was going to happen, or how long it was going to take. The ceremony itself was surprisingly short for how much planning and effort went into it. He found he wasn't paying too much attention to the words as he was to the wedding party… particularly the Bride and the Maid of Honor. He found himself looking at Nina and envisioning her an inch taller, a little younger and hair a little longer. It was easy to supplant Nina's face with Jessica's and the image he was seeing filled him with a fathomless emotion he couldn't name. And when Dave took Nina's hand in his and pledged his undying love to her, it wasn't Nina and Dave he was seeing, but himself and Jessica.

It was the first time that he consciously had the thought of '_I'm gonna marry her one day._'

Jess turned her head slightly and mouthed the words, '_I love you_' when his gaze met hers. There were tears in her eyes and Jess dabbed at them absently as Nina repeated the same vows to Dave. There was an exchanging of rings, a few more words, and a You-May-Now-Kiss-the-Bride that sent the entire church into applause.

The procession filed past, wildly smiling Dave and Nina followed by a grinning Jeremy and Jessica, and then Mark and Nina's friend whom he forgot her name. He and Amber made their way out of the church to the wedding party that was standing along the entrance to the church, shaking hands with all the well wishers. They dutifully stood in line and when he got to Jessica he leaned in and kissed her cheek, whispering, "You look… I… I got nothing. Incredible just doesn't do it."

"You look pretty sharp in that dark suit yourself." She reached out and smoothed a lapel. "Very handsome. You should wear those more," she winked before nodding her head that he should keep the line moving.

He shook hands with the guys in the line. Dave gave him a hearty shoulder thump and an idiotic grin and whatever language he was speaking didn't sound like English but was all jumbled and incoherent. That much happiness must do that to you. He leaned in and kissed Jessica's mom on the cheek and she affectionately hugged him back. He was pretty sure that it was all for show as her parents still weren't back on the Sam Winchester bandwagon. And shaking hands with her dad was genial as possible on the surface, but lacked true warmth and acceptance. He really had to work on that for Jessica's sake.

There was roughly an hour scheduled between the end of the ceremony and the start of the reception where the wedding party was supposed to go and pose for photos in the park down the street. He and Amber went for a few minutes so that Amber could get a few shots and the two of them went for a coffee to pass the time until the dinner started.

Amber, after that initial tirade after he got back from Wilson's, had warmed up to him again, and it was almost as easy to talk to her now as it had been in the beginning. She told him all about the filming of the soap opera she was working on, the juicy gossip on the cast mates, the trivial spats between actors over nothing. But then there were others who didn't have their heads up their asses who made it a joy to go to set everyday. Pranksters and jokesters who would pull all sorts of tricks – especially on the fat-headed actors – to get laughs out of the other crewmates. Amber was living her dream and he was happy for her.

She didn't ask about the therapy sessions, or asked him anything about the drug use or withdrawal symptoms, she just acted as if the whole thing was a bad memory and left it to die on the side of the road where it belonged. And _that_ was why Amber was his favorite of Jessica's friends.

They arrived at the hotel where the reception was being held and made their way to their assigned seats. The head table was reserved for the wedding party naturally, and the front tables were reserved for immediate family, so he and Amber were seated at a table of Nina's friends who Amber had met periodically over her lifetime as Jessica's best friend and the meal was surrounded by sprightly conversation and general joking around. He kept stealing glances up at the head table and every time he looked at Nina in that dress he couldn't help but see Jessica. Once that image came to him in the church, he couldn't let it go and he wanted it. Actually _wanted_ it bad enough that he could taste it like sweet victory on his tongue.

After the meal came the speeches. While Jessica was heartfelt but shy in her delivery, Jeremy was uproariously funny, spilling stories about he and Dave growing up and the trouble that they got into. And then he got serious for the first time since Sam met him, and told them that when he was posted in Iraq and got the e-mail from Dave that Nina had agreed to marry him, and asked him to be his best man at the wedding, Jeremy actually swiped at his eye and his voice hitched a bit as he told everyone of how honored he was that his brother wanted him to stand up next to him on the most important day of his life. Jeremy had the whole place in laughter one minute, and tears the next as he soulfully told the story of breaking down and crying in the middle of a war zone at the thought of his big brother – _his hero_ – getting married to the most beautiful and kind-hearted woman he'd ever met, and he leaned down and kissed a crying Nina and told her that he was honored to call her his sister.

A tear-jerker of a speech to be sure and it was poor timing that Jess's dad had to go up after Jeremy and deliver a speech of welcome to Dave into the Moore family. During the speeches, Sam couldn't help but wonder if these same people would say such nice things about him when he and Jessica got married – because there was no doubt in his head that that was gonna happen. He could see Jessica in a dress like her sister's, he could see Nina and Amber standing up beside Jess at the alter, and beside him…? His half of the church was unsurprisingly empty and there was a void in the space next to him where a best man was supposed to be. Would he call on Dean to stand for him at his wedding? Could he call his brother and ask that from him? Even after all that's happened the last year? The answerless questions nagged at him and he pushed them away for the time being – it was time to cut the cake.

* * *

"I now present you to you, Mr. and Mrs. David Hatcher!" Dave's uncle was acting as MC and the happy couple stood holding hands on the empty dance floor as the slow music started up and Dave caught Nina's hands and swept her into a slow circle in time to the music.

_(- - Unchained Melody, by the Righteous Brothers - -)_

There was applause from around the elegant reception hall and the flashing of cameras as everyone snapped pictures of the newlyweds and their first dance.

After the first verse was over, Mark was at Amber's side and pulling her out to the floor, and Jessica had grabbed his hand and led him out, followed by Jessica's parents, Dave's parents and several other couples. Jessica settled into his arms and he forgot to be self-conscious because it felt so good to have her there.

"I thought the first dance was supposed to be for the Bride and Groom only," he whispered in Jess's ear.

"Usually. Nina asked us to come in after the first little bit so that everyone wouldn't be watching her and Dave spin in slow circles for five minutes like idiots."

He choked off his laughter and held Jess tighter to him, letting his big hands rest on the warmness of her back, the delicate cross-lacing of the gown smooth under the fingers that caressed the bared skin beneath. He let his hands trail over the smooth fabric of the dress at her waist. "I like this dress," he whispered against her ear, soaking up the smell of the perfume she was wearing. "You really do look stunning tonight."

"Flattery will get you very far tonight Mr. Winchester," she winked and bit her lip and he leaned down impulsively and kissed her. Nothing that would garner any looks from the other couples on the dance floor – just the kind of purposeful kiss that let her know that… well… he didn't know what it was supposed to mean… but she returned it was as much purpose as he gave it.

The reception went on forever. It was like musical chairs only with people instead of chairs. Apparently, you weren't allowed to dance with the same person twice and he found himself being shuffled between Jessica's relatives and various friends of Nina's. He was dancing with the Bridesmaid whose name still escaped him while watching Nana dancing with a grinning Jeremy. He could only imagine what was being said between them, but Jeremy's hearty laughter was heard by all in the vicinity and when the song was over, the marine bowed low and kissed the old woman's hand in a gallant fashion that made Nana bark out laughter and smack him in the shoulder.

He'd been hoping to sneak off for a bit after that song. Really, how many pairs of feet did he have to step on tonight? when he felt a pull on his arm and there was tiny Nana smiling up at him and saying, "Don't go running away just yet Dear. You owe Nana a dance for nearly getting her killed in traffic yesterday."

"Most of that was your fault. You kept giving everyone the finger." And as much as he wanted to go hide on the sidelines, he couldn't say no to the little spit-fire of a woman.

She barely came up to his mid-chest, and her wrinkled hand felt frail in his big paw, but she moved with an ease of someone fifteen years younger.

"So how did you enjoy the Bachelorette Nana?" he asked, being very conscious of where he was planting his feet so that he didn't crush her.

"It was very fun. I met a nice young man named Billy and I was quite taken with him."

"Oh? A big guy was he?"

"In the way that counts," she grinned evilly and he realized how the question sounded.

"I _meant_, was he tall?" he growled. He could feel his face going red and Nana laughed at him.

"I know what you meant, Dear. It's just fun watching you kids squirm is all."

"Thanks Nana," he rolled his eyes, much to her delight.

"I like you Sweetheart. And because I like you, I'm going to do you a favor."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Watch this." She gave him a firm pat on the backside which shocked the hell out of him and she walked away towards where Jessica was dancing with her father. Nana tapped him on the shoulder and they exchanged a few words, and then Nana was dancing with her son and Jessica was free.

"Nan… You're awesome." He swept up behind his girlfriend and gently grabbed her elbow, towing her off the floor and towards the multitude of tables surrounding the dance floor. Both sank gratefully into chairs and he leaned forward to snag the carafe of white wine from the center of the table and poured it into two overturned, clean glasses. Jessica took a long drink before sagging against the back of her chair.

"Not that I'm not having fun…" she started, "but I could really use a break right about now. These heels are killing me."

"How much longer do we have to stay?" All he wanted was to go home and fulfill the wordless promise they'd made each other.

"It's starting to clear out a bit now. Think you can make it another hour for appearances sake?"

"If you can, I can."

But that was all they could squeeze in together as they were descended upon by other wedding guests like vultures on road-kill and they were pulled back onto the dance floor. He tried to keep the mantra going in his head so that he wouldn't lose it completely and lose his temper.

_Just one more hour… Just one more hour…_

* * *

"It thought we'd never get home," Jessica muttered nearly two hours later, kicking off the offending heels and sighing with relief as she stretched her toes. "If I ever reach to put on a pair of heels again, throw them out the window for me, okay?"

"Deal," he agreed, loosening his tie and watching her as she stretched – the satiny material of the dress stretching taut over her body. He grinned and she caught the look smiled slyly back at him.

Sauntering up to him slowly, she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned back, pressing her hips against his but allowing room for him to lean down and kiss her deeply – both knowing that there was no one that would interrupt them this time. "You," she punctuated the word with a kiss, "…were very distracting tonight in that suit." She pulled the shirt tails from his pants and he stripped off the suit jacket and tossed it over the back of the sofa. "Very," kiss, "very," kiss, "distracting."

"You managed to steal my attention all night yourself." He reached a hand behind her and started gently tugging at the cross-lacing at the back of the dress. "You in this beautiful dress…"

"The one you're trying to ruin?" She quirked an eyebrow at him and took a step back. "The lacing is just for effect," she explained. "You can't undo them. The dress comes off this way." She lifted one arm and showed him where there was a well hidden, delicate zipper camouflaged by the seam running up the side of the bodice of the dress. She pulled the zipper slowly and he thought he was going to burst with the tsunami of want that washed over him.

She stood there in the middle of their living room, and gingerly pushed the straps of the dress off her shoulders so that the garment pooled around her feet. She stepped out of the fabric and took a step nearer to him and he took her in his arms and kissed her with a force that he wouldn't have been able to suppress if he wanted to.

"Baby, I've missed you," she breathed heavily into his mouth. "I've missed you for so long." She moaned throatily as his hands traveled all over her exposed skin and he needed more… so much more. There were still too many layers of clothes between them.

"Jess, I…"

"Shut up Sam," she kissed him fiercely. "Just shut up."

* * *

He was running, and the sheer joy of it was enough to make him burst with happiness. It was different though, he wasn't running like he would normally – it was as if he was running on four legs like an animal. And the more he thought about it, the better he felt about running as an animal.

_This is __**awesome**__!_

The glory of speed and power and grace as heavy paws bit into the loose dirt of the forest floor filled him, and he felt an extra burst of speed take him even faster through the trees. He had a purpose. He had a mission. And the exultation of that pushed him on to his destination.

* * *

He awoke with hazy bits of dream still clinging to him. Just running, that was all he remembered. But not Shadowman alleyway running. No, this had been running with joy in his heart. It was also the first time he'd dreamed anything and remembered it, but he didn't have any of Wilson's tea last night either. Still… running. It wasn't so bad.

The sun was glaring brightly from behind the closed blinds and Jessica's naked body was pressed up next to his, and he was so full of happiness that he could have started singing if he didn't want Jess to sleep like she was until sometime next week. She must have felt him stir as the corners of her mouth turned up slightly in sleep. "Stay," she sighed, burrowing into his side even more.

So he stayed.

* * *

The next few days passed in a hazy blur of contentment. It was like they had just started living together again and had a lot of time to make up with each other. Neither of them could keep their hands or lips to themselves and that suited him just fine. He pushed away the thoughts of demons and Mel, of Jay Barowitz and his whereabouts… he just pushed everything that wasn't Jessica out of his mind and to hell with the rest because he needed this right now. Jess was in his arms and it was as if the last three months hadn't happened and they were living their lives the way they were supposed to.

The smile that lit Jessica's beautiful face was a sight he didn't tire of seeing, and every time he looked at her he saw her in a white dress and mouthing the words, '_I love you_'. She was happy for the first time in months, and Jess was especially overjoyed the day after the wedding when Nina told her that she was going to be an aunt. Jess had come home crying and thrown herself at him and nearly ripped the buttons from his shirt trying to get if off him in her exuberant delight.

The weekend after the wedding, after a lazy, late brunch, Jess hopped into the shower and he powered up the laptop to check his e-mail. Luis was supposed to be coming back to town later in the week for the start of the new semester, but he didn't know what day he'd be in but he wanted to hook up for a drink. His e-mail was empty so he shot a quick note off to his former roommate and idly browsed MSN waiting for Jess to be done in the shower. He contemplated joining her when a link near the bottom of the page caught his eye.

_Bayou Recluse Killed in Animal Attack._

* * *

A/N: To the bearer of bad news… you're right about the Friday night prime time death slot. Ugghh.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 17

September 3, 2005

_Bayou Recluse Killed in Animal Attack._

The very title of the link made him break out in a cold sweat and his hands shook so bad he had to fist them and take several large and deep breaths before he could manage to click the link and see the story. If there was any doubt that this was about Wilson, that was dispelled when he saw the picture on the article and saw a familiar rundown, tarpaper shack with sun-bleached gator skulls lining the porch posts.

_Oh my God – Wilson_.

He read the article and his stomach churned and roiled with every word.

_Near Grande Chenier, Louisiana._

_An elderly man was found dead outside his home by concerned neighbors yesterday. He was known only as Wilson, and lived alone in his secluded home. Mr. Wilson was blind, but walked to the nearby town once a week for supplies and other necessities. When he didn't show up at the store on Wednesday as per his usual, the owner, Mr. Delmar Johnston, drove out to see if the elderly man was alright. When Johnston arrived, it was to find Mr. Wilson's body lying in the driveway._

"_There was a big gator on the ground near him. He wouldn't let any of the other gators near the old man – like he was standing guard or something. I could see that Wilson was really torn up, but I couldn't get close because of the gator, so I got back in my truck and I called 911 and Animal Services came and they caught the thing. The coroner said that it looked like he'd been dead a few days. Pity really, such an old man out here all on his own for so long and to lie dead in his driveway for days? Pity."_

_When asked if Mr. Wilson had any family members, Johnston replied that he "wasn't sure, but he'd never known anyone to be kin of the old man. He was old when I was a boy – and I'm far from a young man. I wouldn't be surprised if the coroner says he's a hundred and fifty."_

The rest of the article just expanded on what Delmar Johnston said, that Wilson lived alone and had no apparent family. The end of the article said that further information would be made available once it became known. So he searched for more info on other sites, including local news sites in Grand Chenier, but to no avail.

He scrubbed a hand over his face in shock and dismay. That old man got killed by something and he'd bet his next paycheck that it wasn't an animal attack like the authorities were making it out to be – otherwise they'd release the findings of the coroner.

In desperation, he went to Dr. Bad-Ass's site to see if he'd put up one of those little dots on the map over Grand Chenier and see if he'd maybe found more intel on the whole thing. When the link opened, it showed the article he'd just read right on the home screen. There was a blue '_more_' link and he pressed it. The Doc was good at what he does because he had somehow gotten a hold of the coroner's autopsy pictures of the old mystic. Pictures that could be no more than a few days old. Pictures that the Doc must have hacked his way into the coroner's server to get.

He could feel the bacon and eggs that Jessica had made him for brunch start to rise. An animal of some sort had definitely been at him – there was no doubt about that. There were slashing claw marks across his chest and back, flesh torn into ribbons, his face was a mess of blood and torn skin and he was glad that he couldn't see those milk-white eyes because _holy shit_ he was gonna puke as it was without those dead eyes staring back at him too.

He was so wrapped up in what he was seeing that he almost missed it. It could very well have been a savage animal attack without this one thing and luckily there was a blow up photo of it. And this was the reason that there was no more information released to the public. An animal might have killed the old man – but it wasn't there on its own.

There was a fucking pentagram carved on the old man's chest.

You couldn't see it in the photo showing the skin splayed everywhere, but there was a shot where the coroner had arrayed the flesh back to where it belonged, and once the blood had been cleaned away, there was a definite pentagram carved into the dead man's chest. He flipped back a few shots to the one showing Wilson carved to pieces, and once he looked carefully at the shreds of skin, he could make out lines in the parts that could be seen. He went to the blowup of the pentagram. There were symbols etched inside and out of the circle and he didn't know what they were. He kept flipping through the photos until he got to the last one and it turned out to be a message from the Doc himself.

_We all know that Wilson didn't die a natural death. Anyone knowing anything about what Wilson was up to the last little bit should pony up the info so we'll have a better idea of what went after him. And if there is anyone in the Grand Chenier area, they should give the legend a proper S&B. –Dr. BadAss._

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face again.

_Fuck_.

He heard the shower shut off and he hastily turned off the laptop. He didn't need Jess seeing him like this and he struggled to put his game face back on. But the thought that an animal had done that kind of damage to the old man was battling with the thought that the night that Wilson died was likely the night of Nina and Dave's wedding and that had been the night that he'd dreamt of running through strange woods in the guise of a large and powerful animal. He could still feel the thrill of heavy paws tearing up the loam as he ran, and the joy in his heart at the thought of a mission to accomplish.

_Fuck._

* * *

It was the first day back at school. He tried to play it off that there was nothing wrong with him – that he wasn't struggling with the fact that he might have gotten a man killed. Not just killed, but likely tortured as well. And he tried not to dwell on the question of whether Wilson had been dead or alive when the pentagram had been carved into his chest.

Normally, pentagrams weren't symbols of darkness and evil like they were portrayed. The pentagram had been vilified by early Christians to further condemn paganism, although early Christians hadn't thought twice about stealing pagan holidays and customs. The thing that was nagging at him were the symbols and letters, for lack of a better word, that surrounded the pentagrams encasing circle. He hadn't seen those markings before and they were causing him a great amount of worry. What were they? What did they mean? And what had happened that night? Was he really inside the mind of the beast that had killed the Shaman? Was it the demon that was after him that went after Wilson? The old man had said that whatever was inside of him didn't like him. And he couldn't forget the effect that Wilson's potion had on him when the blind man touched him. The fluid he drank sloshed angrily about like a flopping fish and how that feeling had abated when Wilson had let go. Had the demon tracked him down or had Wilson stumbled onto something and the demon found out?

_Fucking clusterfuck_, he cursed, scrubbing his face with his hands like he'd been doing incessantly since he saw the autopsy photos.

He had to act normal. Jess wasn't in school this semester, so he didn't have to hide from her, and Rebecca and Zach had gone back to St. Louis in June so he didn't have to worry about them. He did have to worry about Luis though, and right now, Luis was staring at him over a paper Latte cup.

"You alright Sasquatch?" he asked with a touching amount of concern.

"Yeah… I'm just a little stressed out is all." Luis was still looking at him so he expanded on his lies. He was good at that after all. "I applied for a T.A. position a few weeks ago and haven't heard anything back yet. I really want the gig so that I can stop working that crap call center job."

"It's the first day back at school man. Give it a few days. These professors are really busy you know – they teach a whole one or two classes a day." The black man rolled his eyes in exasperation of the tenured faculty. He barked out a laugh, "My first day here there was this T.A. in my commerce class and man was I crushing on him _bad!_ Turned out he didn't walk on the wild side but I would have staked my Gay-dar license that he was."

"Maybe he was still in the closet," he offered distractedly.

"Maybe… I don't know." He took a long pull off his Latte and asked, "So how are things with Jessica? Did you guys have a good summer?"

He hadn't mentioned to Luis about any of the shit that had happened over the summer break, and he didn't really want to, but if Jess mentioned something errantly in front of the guy, things could get really awkward and embarrassing. Besides, it's not like Luis was the type of guy who looked down on anybody, so maybe it would be good to get it off his chest to someone who was his friend.

"Well, no. Not really." He didn't look up from his coffee as he said it and he felt Luis shift forward in his seat.

"What happened? You guys were looking through rose colored glasses at each other the last time I saw you."

"I got a little messed up. A lot messed up really. I almost lost her."

"What the hell did you do?" he whispered in shock.

"I got hooked on Bennies working the night shift. It got pretty bad there for awhile and then Jess found out." He looked up and Luis' jaw was nearly on the table.

"How bad was bad?" he asked slowly.

"I nearly overdosed. Jess found me and called an ambulance."

"Shit Sam. What were you thinking? You're Mr. Straight and Narrow."

"I wasn't thinking. God Luis, I was a mess."

"Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

"I was hiding it from her, and when she found out… I almost lost her Man. That was the scariest thing that's ever happened to me – thinking that she was gonna walk out of my life and it was all my fault. I couldn't talk to anyone about it and I was really ashamed of myself for being so stupid."

"But you guys worked it out though, right?"

"We're going to counseling. She said I needed help and she was right. It was really rough there for awhile but I think we're getting back on track now. It feels like we are anyway. I don't walk in the door afraid that when I open the damn thing all her stuff is gonna be gone anymore."

"I'm glad you guys are getting through it. But I can't say that I'm not _shocked_ that you started doing drugs, Sam. You stopped taking them, right?"

"Oh yeah. Believe me, I won't be doing them again."

"Good. I'd hate to ugly up that pretty face of yours by knocking your fool white-boy teeth in."

* * *

He got the T.A. position. It should have been a major relief to put in his two weeks notice at the Cell phone company, but it was overshadowed by the guilt of Wilson's death that haunted his every waking moment. And the non-waking moments too. He was dreaming more frequently now despite the tea that he was taking. Wilson had told him that the mystery compound would wear off after a while and it looked like now was the time for everything to fall apart again. There wasn't much tea left and there was no way to get more now even if it was still working. He hadn't anticipated the idea that Wilson would get killed before they found a solution to his problem and the hip deep shit he was wading in was quickly getting deeper.

He tried not to think of Wilson. He tried not to think of Mel.

He didn't succeed.

The only consolation he could give himself was that the dreams weren't as terrifying as they were back in May. He wasn't being chased by beasts, he wasn't lost in the dark, and he wasn't running in fear from the Shadowman.

_Demon_, he reminded himself. _He's a fucking demon_.

But the demon wasn't there anymore. These new dreams were flashes of images that were disjointed and didn't make sense. He'd see images of random people, and sometimes he'd recognize a face from a dream from the week before. There was nothing to mark these dreams from anything unusual other than the fact that they gave his expanded head space, brain stabbing headaches.

At least he wasn't having them every night. The frequency had dropped off from the nightly terrors he'd lived through back in May.

He hid it all from Jessica. She knew he was suffering from headaches but he passed it off as being overworked. It was plausible in the fact that he didn't stop from the moment he woke up until he finally crashed into bed at night. Between studying, his class workload and the T.A. work, he didn't have a moments rest. Jessica was busy too as she was getting a fair amount of substitute work between the five schools she was covering. She came home glowing every time, talking about her day and the cute and funny things that the kids did. And the Principals at the schools loved her too and she even mentioned that there was a position opening up the next year for a fifth grade teacher that was retiring. He could see it in her eyes that she wanted that position.

He felt like Clark Kent and Superman with the dual lives he was living. Hiding everything from the ones close to him was second nature to him, but he was bordering on lying to himself and that just wasn't helping. He actually wanted to hit himself when he tried to reason to himself that since the dreams weren't that bad other than the headaches, then the urgency to end them wasn't as great as it was before. Then he reminded himself that Wilson and Mel were dead and he had to pull his head out of the sand and seek justice for them.

In mid-September he re-wrote his LSAT. He felt really good coming out of it this time. He could actually remember filling out the questions and essays unlike the first time he wrote it. Even though he had scored a whopping 170 the first time round, he felt like he must have done better this time because he was actually coherent. It would be several weeks until he found out his score though. There were fewer people writing the test this time of year as most would have wanted to enroll in time for the September semester. The best he could hope for was a good enough score to land him a decent scholarship in January.

An unforeseen bonus was that the professor that he was working for liked him enough to write him a recommendation to the Law brass here at Stanford. So T.A. position plus recommendation plus high LSAT score might equal full ride. He hoped.

So it was a bit of a shock to him when the first of October rolled around and he'd gotten precisely nowhere on the demon front. And if he were going to be completely honest with himself, he had let it slip from the front of his mind. He actually felt a little disgusted with himself for letting his complacency in the matter overshadow the need for making the demon pay for what he'd done. Who knew what other trouble he was stirring up? He could be out there right now, torturing and killing people and here _he_ was sitting on his ass and chasing after a normal life. He was daydreaming about Jessica in a white wedding dress, while she told him about her day in the classroom and the progress of Nina's pregnancy from her seat across the table.

"She can feel him moving now," Jess said after swallowing a mouthful of chicken. "She said at first it was like butterflies flying around in there, and then it was definite little pokes and prods."

"Him?" he asked. "Does she know it's a boy then?"

"No, but she said it felt weird to refer to him as '_it_' and she said it feels like a boy."

"How would she know what a boy felt like? She's never had a baby before."

Jess giggled. "She said it's a boy because whenever she wants to sit down and rest, he won't leave her alone."

"Nice," he rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "Are you working at one of the school's tomorrow?"

"No. I haven't been called in yet so I called the restaurant and they said I can pick up a shift tomorrow," she said while putting a forkful of rice in her mouth. The restaurant had been really good about her work schedule. They said she could work whatever shift she wanted so long as they had as much notice she could give them if she couldn't come into work. That was one of the benefits of working for a family restaurant – especially when you were considered an honorary daughter.

Amber hadn't been around much. The soap opera was keeping her plenty busy and she had formally moved to LA three weeks ago, but she still called most nights to chat to her best friend – asking her how they were doing, how Nina was progressing, and how Mark was doing. Whatever pull the paramedic had on Amber, he should really try to bottle that shit and sell it on the black market. The guy would make a fortune. The pull of Los Angeles had the pretty girl in its clutches, but if there was anyone strong enough to weather the storm of celebrity and scandal and paparazzi – it would be Amber. He could only hope that she didn't drift off the edge of over-inflated ego and self-importance, and that she kept a healthy supply of the pointy-toed heels she favored so much so that she could fight back against anyone that would try to take advantage of her in that cut-throat business.

"I'm going to be pretty late the next few days," he said around a mouthful of lettuce. "I have a paper due on Friday, and a test that day too."

"When do you get the results of your LSAT back?"

"The last week of October."

"Baby, that's only three weeks away." He didn't need her to tell him how important the results of that test were going to be.

"Yeah, ahhh… I didn't want to tell you about it yet… it's not certain… but Professor Burgin said that if get another one-seventy or better, he'd swing an interview for me here at Stanford – maybe even a full ride."

Her fork clattered onto her plate and her jaw dropped, opening and closing several times before she blinked heavily and stood up. She rounded the table with her arms out and he stood to meet her as she wrapped them around his neck and mashed her lips against his with as much force as she possessed. "Oh my God, Baby," she panted into his mouth, "If you could get a full ride at Stanford Law… Oh my God…"

She was still kissing him, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt – their dinner completely forgotten as they struggled to shed the clothes that were in the way of her idea of celebration.

It was good to be back in this place with Jessica.

* * *

October 20, 2005

The dreams had been random images since the running as an animal one. The one where he was fairly certain that he'd been inside the mind of the beast that killed Wilson. And if his hunch was correct, the same beast that had hunted him in the Dreamland alleyways. The people he saw in the dreams were strangers, and the images were disjointed and made no sense. Flashes of some town or home, a car driving down a street… all completely random and seemingly harmless – other than the headaches they gave him.

But right now, at this moment, he was standing in his bathroom and leaning all his weight on his braced hands on the sink rim, gasping for breath while his heart thudded painfully in his chest. He splashed cold water on his face, cupped his hands beneath the stream and gulped it down like a beer funnel at a frat party. Running his wet hands through his sweat soaked hair, he paced the whopping five feet of floor space between the tub and opposite wall, digging his hands into his scalp as if that would solve anything.

The image had been quick, and the headache it left behind nearly had him puking up his dinner over the side of the bed. He'd raced for the john, Jessica rolling over in the hasty retreat but luckily she didn't wake.

It was just a guy. His age, longish red-brown hair and a Billabong t-shirt with a blood-stain on the front. The guy had his arm outstretched towards something that was out of view, and suddenly, his head and neck twisted violently to the side by unseen hands and the guy fell dead to the ground.

The slow motion fall was on constant replay in his mind, and the amount of detail in dude's face was not something that should be so clear in such a quick moment. The way he could almost hear the vertebrae in the neck crackle and snap, or the way the eyes closed, almost in resignation… And the knees buckling, the tall frame of the stranger slowly sinking to the ground like one of those buildings you see on the news in a controlled implosion.

Sam sat down on the edge of the tub and braced his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands – the stubble on his cheeks burning his palms.

_Holy fuck._

The cold violence of it was deeply unsettling. Who else had been there? Was it the demon that was after him? Was this guy he just saw the mysterious Jay Barowitz? He'd had a vision of Mel's accident – the one that killed her friend and nearly killed her too. So was he now seeing the death of her half-brother? Did it already happen, or was it yet to come? He'd seen Mel's accident hours before it happened, was this the same? Was this guy in his dream hours from a violent death?

He shuddered, remembering with acrid clarity the smells of pine forest and mineral water from the surrounding dark of his dream.

* * *

_I need your help, _he wrote in the e-mail to Dr. BadAss_. I'm chasing down a lead and I need to find someone but I haven't had any luck. His name is Jay Barowitz. He graduated from Sonora High in California in 2002 and I can't find any records of him since shortly after that. I need to find this guy and you seem like you can find anything. If you can help me out at all, I'd appreciate it._

He sent off the e-mail and pressed his palms into his eyes to blot out the site of the guy falling to his knees like a marionette with the stings cut out from above him.

* * *

The next day, while walking down a busy street on his way to the restaurant to see Jessica, he passed a jewelry shop. He'd passed this place a thousand times and he didn't know what made him stop other than maybe the glint of the sun reflecting off the display caught his eye.

It was a diamond ring display in the window. Dozens of rings arrayed in small boxes on small shelves and ledges of black velvet. The sizes of the gems varied as much as the cut of the jewels themselves, or their settings. But it was one ring in particular that had seized his attention. It was a brilliantly shiny stone, set high on a delicate white gold band that looked like it was forged to fit on Jessica's slender finger.

He would have said the next image was one of his visions if he hadn't been awake, or if it had left him with a debilitating headache. This image filled him with something stronger, something hopeful. He saw himself giving this ring to Jessica. He was holding her down on the pier on the boardwalk, watching the sun sink fiery red into the Pacific, the sky bruised with orange and red and purple. And he saw himself take her hand and slide the ring onto her finger, and the surprised look in her blue eyes as she looked up at him, realizing what the ring was. And he saw the tears spring to her eyes as she flung herself around his neck and cried, 'Yes' over and over.

He shook himself a bit to get his bearings back. He gave the ring a final, almost wistful look before resuming his trip.

_Not until the demon is dealt with._

* * *

October 22, 2005

He was standing at the front of the same church that Nina and Dave got married in. He was wearing a black tux and his hair was slicked back and he was sweating profusely. The church was empty except for the priest holding a bible and smiling benevolently at him. There was organ music that seemed to seep out of the walls and pews themselves because there was no tiny organist behind the instrument today like there had been at Nina's wedding.

The music changed suddenly, and he turned towards the back of the church to see his angel clutching a bouquet of flowers and seemingly floating up the aisle. The diamond ring on her finger sparkled in the glow emitted by Jessica's utter radiance. The world's bluest eyes bored into his and his heart leapt into his throat with the raw emotion of that gaze.

She was moments away from becoming his wife, and his heart couldn't contain his joy.

She reached his side and he took her hand in his and they turned towards the priest. The old man smiled at them opened his bible. He looked up at them, and without speaking, shot a hand out towards Jessica and she went flying, hurtling through the air in a whirlwind of white satin and pink carnations.

"NO!" he bellowed, starting to run for her but was stopped by invisible hands and the priest laughing a familiar gut-churning laugh.

The priest turned towards him, his arm still outstretched towards Jessica's body. The old man cocked his head to the side and his eyes flashed gold for a moment, before returning to a dull brown. "Where you going, Kid?" he asked, smiling a vicious smile and Jessica started sliding up the wall, clutching at her throat and gasping for breath as her legs kicked against the wall in her struggle.

"Leave her alone!"

"You think you can take me on Kiddo? You think you can go against me and what I've got up my sleeve?" A wave of pain ran through his veins and he collapsed on the floor, reaching desperately for Jessica.

Jessica's face was turning blue as she grappled with the force on her throat. She'd reached the top of the wall and was now inching her way along the vaulted ceiling like a giant spider.

"You think you can stop me? I've been planning this since before you were born, Boy!" Fresh pain shot through him and all he could do was try to drag himself along the floor to get away from the demon.

But the demon was in control here, and the demon wanted pain. A foot was planted into his back and his face rammed into the flagstones of the church. A vicious kick to his side flipped him over and sailed him several feet down the aisle Jessica had just walked down. He dug his fingers into the floor, trying to pull himself towards the pews in an attempt to gain his feet. The demon kicked him again and leaned down close to his face so that he could see the glowing yellow eyes.

"I will not let you ruin everything," he hissed. The demon straightened and shot a hand in Jessica's direction and there was an ear splitting scream.

"NO!" He bolted upright, stretching a hand out in front of his face and reaching for Jess. It took a full second for him to realize that he was in his bed, the room dark but for the glow from the streetlight outside, and he was alone.

He frantically patted the sheets next to him, as if Jessica had been swallowed by the mattress. "Jess?"

A small gasping sound drew his attention to the ceiling.

Jessica was pinned to the ceiling, in a white night-gown soaked in blood. She was reaching a hand out towards him, and then she burst into flame.

* * *

A/N: I had an epiphany a few weeks ago while driving to work one morning. One of those wanna-slap-myself-in-the-forehead for not thinking of it sooner moments. It was an idea for this story, and thankfully I had it early enough so that I could weave it into what I already had without contradicting myself. So in the next few chapters if you guys start to think I'm barking and straying **way** off the baselines… hold on. I have a plan ;D


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

_He frantically patted the sheets next to him, as if Jessica had been swallowed by the mattress. "Jess?"_

_A small gasping sound drew his attention to the ceiling._

_Jessica was pinned to the ceiling, in a white night-gown soaked in blood. She was reaching a hand out towards him, and then she burst into flame._

Chapter 18

October 23, 2005

"Jessica!" he screamed.

"Baby, what is it?" A soft, warm hand landed on his forearm and gripped him tight.

"Jess?" He could see her form in the dark next to him, her blue eyes wide and shadowed in the blackness.

"I'm here Sam… _Oomph_." He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight to him, squeezing the air out of her.

"Oh God," he breathed into her hair. "You're okay."

"I'm fine Sam. What happened?" Her hands sought his face and held his cheek. He leaned into the touch, the feel of her palm more comforting than anything else at the moment. "Did you have a nightmare, Baby?"

"Yeah, I…" and he couldn't tell her what really happened but he had to tell her something, because she was looking at him with so much concern and love and worry that he couldn't think well enough at that second to tell her nothing. "…There was a fire… and I… I couldn't get to you…"

She held him tight while he shook, stroking his head and whispering soothing sounds in his ear. "Shhh, Baby. It's okay, I'm here."

It took a long time for him to stop trembling, and an even longer time for him to loosen his death grip on her. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand – three-thirty am.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I've kept you up. You'll be beat for your classes tomorrow."

"It doesn't matter Sam," she continued to stroke his hair. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about…" _I could smell your hair burning…_

"Your mom died in a fire didn't she? And your dad couldn't get to her?"

"Yeah, but…" _I just saw you die in the same way she did…_

"And the anniversary of her death is coming up isn't it?"

"Yeah, but… Jess… I didn't really _know_ her…" _you screamed my name…_

"Baby, maybe your mind is telling you something."

_Well, it is, but you can't know about that_.

"Maybe your subconscious is more aware of the anniversary of her death than you realize – and it's making leaps for you."

"What are you talking about?" He was confused by the direction she was taking, and wasn't sure if it was the remnants of the dream keeping him from understanding what she was saying, or if for once, the extra room in his head just wasn't capable of connecting the dots.

"Sam," she said gently, "When you get stressed, you have nightmares. You had them in the spring because you were pushing yourself so hard, and you're having them now while you're pushing yourself again."

Okay, so he wasn't hiding the dreams and headaches as well as he thought. But at least she still didn't suspect a darker reason for his nightmares other than stress and overworking himself.

"Jess, I don't know where you're going with this," he admitted. He couldn't process anything other than the fact that she was next to him and unharmed, and whatever connections Jess was drawing for herself were completely lost on him because he could still smell her burning.

"What I'm getting at Sam, is that maybe you should try to slow it down a bit, huh? You're burying yourself in work and school and trying to get that scholarship, and Baby, that's awesome... But you've also been trying so hard to make sure that I'm happy, and if it's getting too hard on you, don't think that you have to work so hard on keeping me here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Jess, I can't ask you to take a backseat on everything – God… you're the most important thing in my life." He gripped the sides of her face and pressed his forehead against hers, feeling warm flesh against warm flesh and trying to block out the soul rending screams that were echoing around his grey matter.

"I know. And you're scared that you're going to lose me."

"I've been afraid of that for a long time Jessica," he whispered, twisting his fingers into her hair and kissing her forehead, a stray tear breaking free and running down his cheek.

_I can't lose you…_

Her blond curls shook in the darkness. She placed a hand on his chest and pushed him onto his back. She sank down with him, snuggling into his side and draping an arm over his stomach as if she were trying to wrap herself around him in an effort to protect him. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

October 24, 2005

The next evening, he checked his e-mail and there was a message from Dr. BadAss.

_Found the guy you're looking for. He's been in Australia since he finished high school, which is probably why you couldn't find anything on him domestically. I had to do some global searches and finally found him mentioned in a news paper article out of Perth. He'd been in a surfing competition last year and placed fourth. After I knew what country he was in, it was easy. Seems like you're in luck though. His passport was scanned at LAX three weeks ago and he's back on home turf. You'll find him in Sonora most likely. Seems like his mom's health is fading and he came home to take care of her. A credit card under his name was swiped at a grocery store there yesterday. Hope this helps._

There was an attachment showing the news paper article he'd mentioned, along with a passport photo –and how in the hell did he get that? – and a home address for his mother's place. But he couldn't take his eyes off the passport photo. He'd seen that face before. He'd seen his neck snapped and the lights leave his eyes and his body crumpled on the ground.

Jay Barowitz would die if he didn't do something to help him.

* * *

He managed not to wake Jess up when he shot out of bed later that night. It had only been a flash, but Jessica had been pinned to the ceiling in a bloody night-gown again, and there were flames licking at her body as she screamed his name.

He hunched over the toilet bowl and threw up his dinner and everything he'd eaten in the past week, and then kept on heaving. Once the spasms subsided, and his hands stopped shaking, he splashed cold water over his face until he thought he might drown himself in the handful sized puddles.

Jessica – his angel – burning on the ceiling.

_Ho. Ly. Fuck_.

He went out to the living room, pacing back and forth and trying to stop his heart from exploding out of his chest. Jessica was in danger, and he didn't know how to stop it. What the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't take on a demon! And what was the fucking point of these dreams if he was powerless to stop them? He'd never felt so powerless, and he hated the feeling of it. It was his _job_ to protect Jessica. Hell, it was his life's mission to make sure she didn't stop breathing until she was ninety-five and finally said '_screw it._'

The pacing and clawing at his hair wasn't making anything better so he powered up his laptop and went to the BadAss site, going straight to the section on demons. The Key of Solomon glowed brightly at him in the dim of the dark living room, almost mocking him in the complexity of the lines and sigils that surrounded it. He needed help and he knew it. He couldn't take on a demon all on his own. Taking one on at all was foolish but what other choice did he have? Jessica was in danger.

So he sat in front of his computer, tapping his pen against the monitor in time to a beat that was only playing in his head. In his other hand he was holding his cell phone, flipped open and the blue lights illuminated his features in a ghastly hue. He was staring at the numbers on the key pad and wishing he could just press and hold in the number seven key, the button that would automatically dial his brother's cell phone so that he could speak to him. He desperately wanted to talk to Dean. He hadn't spoken to him in over twelve months, but then again, that was only because he had told him he didn't want him to come around anymore. Said it with words and fists. Sam sighed and closed the phone with soft click, resting it on the desk next to his laptop – the laptop that Dean had bought for him, and he sighed again. The memory of the hurt in his brother's eyes as fresh in his mind now as it had been the night he last saw him. He rubbed his palms into his eyes to try to blot out the memories, but it didn't work.

It never worked.

He could see all too clearly the rapidly reddening mark on his brother's jaw. He could recall with perfect clarity the narrowed green eyes and the grunt of breath as Dean had pushed himself to his feet. He even imagined he could still feel the burning pain in his knuckles from punching his brother in the face and the feel of his head snapping back with the force of the blow… and the resounding thud of Dean hitting the wall – a cruel movie on constant replay in his mind.

He could even hear his own words echoing spitefully in his head, "_I don't need hunting, I don't need Dad. AND I DON'T NEED YOU!"_

Those words had done more damage to Dean than anything else he'd ever said to him. Ever. The guy had spent his entire life taking care of him, putting him first and to hell with his own dreams, and he'd hurt him in the way he knew would cause the most carnage. He might as well have stabbed him with a hooked blade and ripped his intestines out while he was at it.

_I don't need you…_

And Dean couldn't leave without a final jab himself. _"You can't hide who you are forever, you can't erase the things you've done and nothing you say or do changes the fact that we're brothers."_

If he believed for an instant that his brother could be prophetic, it would be looking back on that moment now. He certainly couldn't hide who he was for much longer, not without eliminating the threat that was hovering over Jessica like green storm clouds on the prairies. Nothing would ever erase the things he'd done in the past, whether his distant past or the more recent atrocities he'd committed. But it was the last part Dean had bestowed on him before walking out of his dormitory door and out of his life.

_Nothing you say or do changes the fact that we're brothers._

Was that true? Or did he hurt his brother so badly that last time, that he would ignore his pleas for help now? And he knew the answer to that one deep in his soul before his enlarged head-space could even process the question.

So he snatched up his phone, flipped it open and held down the seven key before he could second guess himself again. His heart was pounding in his chest and he wondered how his ribs could withstand the damage when there was a click on the line. The voice, deep and familiar as his own, was worried, disbelieving and apprehensive in the single word that breathed through the circuitry – "_Sammy?_"

He closed his eyes in silent prayer and gratitude that his brother had picked up the phone, even bypassing the eye twitch that accompanied the much hated childhood name of _Sammy_.

"Dean?" The word felt like a lifeline – like a prayer – and in a way it was. "I… I need your help."

* * *

October 26, 2005

It took two days for Dean to get to Palo Alto. Well, really a day and a half. It had been late at night when he'd called his brother and it was just past noon when he showed up outside his apartment. It wouldn't have surprised him if Dean left for the west coast the second they hung up, and thinking about it for a moment, he realized that that was likely true. Also likely true was that Dean probably didn't stop the entire thirty-eight hours of driving for little more than the time it took to re-fuel the Impala and grab a coffee, or a pit stop on the side of a forgotten highway to relieve a coffee bladder.

Sam had spent that time glued to his laptop searching for anything that would save his angel. He spent most of that time researching because he'd dreamt of her burning again and he imagined he could smell the sizzle of flesh every time he closed his eyes – so sleeping was out. He'd stayed home from classes because the idea of sitting still in a lecture hall made his stomach lurch, and he had to refrain from locking Jessica in the bathroom to keep her from going about her daily life. He couldn't alert her to what was going on – what would he tell her? _Hey Jess, there's this demon after me and I think he wants to kill you, so my brother and I are going on a kamikaze run to take him down before he can get to you – If I live, do you need me to stop at the grocery store on the way home?_ And after he was locked up in mental institution…

So he was pacing the landing on the outdoor stairway, keeping an ear out for the tell-tale rumble of the Impala and trying to not rip his hair out by the roots with the agonizing waiting. He kept pulling out his cell phone to check the time, counting down the seconds to when Dean said he'd be here. "_I'm an hour out Sammy, I'll be there soon…_"

That timeline was rapidly diminishing and he was getting more apprehensive the more time passed. He hadn't told his brother anything the other night. He'd only told him he needed help and Dean had come running.

He closed his eyes and leaned forward on the stair railing, resting his forehead against his forearms and trying to breathe deep. Hyperventilating right now wouldn't do anyone any good and he needed to get a freaking grip – Jessica's life depended on it.

And then he heard it. Low at first, but then it grew closer and closer so that he picked his head up off his arms and listened for the direction of the approaching throaty motor. She was close, and with her was his brother who would help out with this demon anyway that he could. He could have wept with relief when the Impala pulled up to the curb in front of the building – gleaming like a beacon despite the two days of hard driving through desert country.

He raced down the remaining stairs, and halted abruptly as he saw his older brother swaggering up the walkway. There were a number of conflicting emotions between the two of them that would be fairly obvious to anyone even outside the circle of in-the-know information. First was the stiffening at first glimpse by both parties, then the carefully measured steps towards the other. They stopped with six feet still between them, Sam's arms dangling uselessly at his sides not knowing what to do with them. The tension was thick and crackling with intensity between them, neither knowing how to break through it.

Dean was the one to break the heavy silence. "It's good to see you, Sammy."

"It's good to see you too, Dean. I'm glad you came." He took another hesitant step towards his brother and stopped. There was a dark look in his older brother's eyes. Dean might have just driven half-way across the country to come to his aide, but that didn't mean that he forgot his baby brother towering over him and ready to keep throwing punches. If he were to call that dark look anything, he would have to say that it reeked of suspicion. Not that he blamed him.

The hammering in his chest intensified as he gestured towards the stairs. "Do you want to come in for a beer? I… I need to tell you something."

"Like the reason I just drove eighteen hundred miles?"

There was a sarcastic lilt to the eyebrow that shot up and for a second he wanted to hammer his brother again. He took a deep breath and swallowed it down. "Dean, there's something wrong. I thought I could take care of it myself but I was wrong. I need your help." He gave his brother a full dose of the puppy eyes, not that Dean had ever been very susceptible to them in the first place. "Will you come inside?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "You said there's beer?"

* * *

It had taken more than one beer, and more than a few hours, to tell Dean the whole story. And the more he got off his chest, the more the bottles piled up on the table.

"You're telling me," Dean said with narrowed eyes, "That you're having death visions, you're dream walking, you went to fucking _Wilson_, but it was a vision of Jessica dying that made you realize you needed to call for fucking _help?_" Dean paced the kitchen angrily, running his hand through his hair in much the same way Sam had been doing earlier. That was one trait they'd both inherited from their father.

"I should have called for help earlier. I know that, okay?" he pleaded from his seat at the table. "But I called now. Will you help me?"

"What, you think I'm gonna let you go up against a demon by yourself?" Dean demanded. "And you're supposed to be the fucking smart one," he muttered into the neck of the beer bottle as he took a healthy swig. Dean drained the bottle, set it on the counter and braced his hands behind him as he leaned against the sink. "Okay. So what's the plan?"

He sighed gratefully – this would be the easier part. "We summon him, and we exorcize him. Send the bastard back to hell where he belongs."

"That's all well and good, but how do we go about doing that?"

"I've been doing some research." He pulled some print-outs out of the notebook next to the laptop and spread them out on the table top for Dean to see. "This is a summoning ritual," he pointed to one sheet with a list of ingredients and a short verse of Latin. "If we summon him, and lure him into the Key of Solomon," he indicated a drawing of the demon trap, "… he'll be powerless and then we can send him back to hell."

"And hope to hell that he doesn't bust out again and come at you with barrels blazing." Dean sat heavily in the chair opposite him, "This blows, Dude."

"I know, but it's all we can do. There's no way to kill a demon so this is the most we can hope for."

"Still blows. Where and when do we do this?"

"Tonight? I got the ingredients for the summoning together over the last few days. I figure we head out of town, find some unpopulated bit of dirt and bring the bastard to us."

"Alright, so what about Jessica?"

"What about Jessica?" he narrowed his eyes at his brother.

"You can't leave her here unprotected! What if the summoning doesn't work and he comes here after her while we're dicking around in some patch of the desert? And what about that Jay guy, huh? Or are you unconcerned about his still-breathing status?"

"Of course I want to stop the demon from killing that guy!" he shouted. "If this works, then the demon won't be able to kill him!"

"Unless he's already killed the sonofabitch." Dean leaned forward onto his elbows, green eyes boring into his.

"I've been tracking his credit card. There was a swipe this morning at a pharmacy in Sonora," he shot back in self-defense.

"This morning." Dean said flatly. "Which means that he might be dead already."

"No, the vision was at night. If Barowitz was alive this morning, then he's alive right now."

"Sammy," Dean hissed, his voice impatient. "We can't leave her here alone. If we're gone and he comes for her, she's dead."

"Dean, I can't risk bringing her!"

"You can't risk leaving her behind either!" Dean got up and angrily shoved the chair he'd just been sitting in. He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled face in exasperation. "Look Sam, you got her into this mess, and we aren't leaving her here unless we get Dad or Bobby here to keep her safe."

"Did you tell dad you were coming here?" As much as he hated the old man, he had to admit that things would feel a hell of a lot better if the stubborn asshole was present.

"I left a dozen messages for him on my way here. He never answered or returned my calls." There was a look of worry that darkened the green eyes as he said that.

"When was the last time you spoke to Dad?" he asked, questioning the uncharacteristic behavior of their dad not returning calls.

"A few days ago," Dean sank back down in the chair, reached for a beer bottle on the table but replaced it when he realized it was already empty. "He told me he was chasing down a lead on a case, and I haven't heard from his since."

"What ever happened to the standard twenty-four hour check-ins he always insisted on when we were younger?" he muttered angrily, flicking a beer cap and sending it skittering across the table top.

"Guess that rule doesn't apply to the guy who wrote it," he responded sullenly.

"Have you spoken to Bobby, since… since…" He couldn't bring himself to talk about that Christmas where everything fell apart.

"Not since a few weeks after that," he answered, knowing exactly what event Sam was talking about. "We got in an argument about, well… about him pulling the shotgun on Dad and he told me I was as big an idjit as Dad and I haven't spoken to him since." Dean scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand and a look of consternation clouded his features as he thought about the cut ties with their adopted uncle.

"So we shouldn't expect an eleventh hour plan out of Bobby."

"Trust me, up against demons? I'd kill to have Bobby here. The man's the fucking guru." Dean sighed and went to the fridge in search of another beer. He saw the fried chicken box at the bottom and pulled it out, raising an eyebrow at his kid brother. Sam nodded and Dean pulled a cold and greasy leg of extra crispy out of the box and bit into it. "…'sides," he mumbled around a full mouth of the Colonel's best, "I still talk to Pastor Jim and he told me that Bobby's hunting in Crowsnest Pass."

He felt a twinge of guilt at the mention of Pastor Jim – he hadn't even sent the old man a letter. "Bobby went to Canada?" he asked incredulously, trying to mask the guilt.

"There are fuglies north of the border too Sammy." Dean licked grease from his fingers before diving into the box again. He didn't know how his brother could eat, his own stomach turned to a solid lump of concrete the night he first dreamt of Jessica pinned to the ceiling.

"Dean," he tried to keep the whining out of his voice, "If we bring her, I can't hide who we are from her."

"She doesn't know?" The chicken thigh dangled from his fingers, dangerously close to falling to the floor. "How the hell does she not know? What have you told her about us?"

"Next to nothing," he admitted, trying to ignore the shocked indignation on his brother's face.

"Can you tell me how in the hell you can be tapping this chick…"

"Hey!" he shouted, jumping to his feet and slapping the table so that empty bottles danced and clinked.

"Sorry Princess," Dean sneered, tossing the forgotten chicken back in the box and tossing said box onto the counter. "Can you tell me how in the hell you can be _living_ with this girl for this long and she doesn't know you spent your fourteenth birthday in the hospital getting your broken arm re-set cuz you were thrown across a warehouse by an angry spirit?"

"Well… I… I might have made her think that Dad was sortofa… a Wiseguy," he replied rather sheepishly.

"You WHAT?"

"Dean I…"

"Our Dad is a fucking hero," Dean seethed, "and you make him out to be fucking Goombah?"

"I didn't say it in so many words, that's just the conclusion I think she came to."

"So you don't even know what she thinks we are?" Dean said heatedly.

"We've never discussed it," he spoke to the beer caps, not being able to meet his brother's steely gaze. "She respected my desire to not talk about it."

"You stupid sonofabitch," Dean cursed. "You know Sammy, most people who find they've dug themselves a hole, stop digging. But not you. Oh no, you keep fucking going."

"I know it's a mess, alright?" he shouted.

"So she doesn't know about your past," Dean rubbed his fingers into his eye tiredly. "Does she know about the visions?"

"No."

"So as far as Jessica is concerned, you had a troubled childhood and are completely normal, if battling a fucking drug addiction."

"That about sums it up, yeah," he said dryly.

"So you'd rather risk her life then risk her finding out about you and leaving, is that it?"

"No!" The edges of his vision went red at the implication of that statement. Jessica meant more to him than anything. If her knowing about him would save her, then he'd tell her. But it wouldn't make a difference now.

"Then tell me, cuz what I see is you being selfish and stupid!"

"She doesn't know about the supernatural!" he insisted. "Why would I throw her into that world if I didn't have to?"

"Because she has a right to know the guy she's fucking is a goddamn hunter!" Dean started pacing again. "How did you explain away all the scars and burns and everything? Fuck Sam, you've been fucking shot at!"

"I know I have been, you were the one who shot me." Sam crossed his arms over his chest at the memory of the searing pain that burned up his leg that night so long ago. He could recall perfectly his dad holding him down while Dean dug the slug out of his thigh, the whiskey they poured over the wound and down his throat and the blinding fucking _pain_…

"If you'd stayed where Dad told you to…" Dean pointed a finger at him accusingly.

He was right of course. He'd been shot because he wasn't where he was supposed to be and Dean had shot at him thinking he was the creature they were after. But he headed off the familiar tirade before Dean worked up a head of steam. "Off topic Dean, okay? Let's not rehash the old arguments."

"Fine," Dean hissed. "So what did you tell her about the scars?"

"Nothing. She never asked."

"You're with this girl for the last year and whatever, and she's never asked, meanwhile I'm trying to get the daily special to shut up and stop with the questions?" Dean shook his head, "You got all the luck…" he muttered.

"Except for the death visions and a demon up my ass," he shot back.

"Yeah, except that." Dean took a deep breath and let it out heavily. "This. Fucking. Blows."

"Dean we can't tell Jessica. She'll never understand." He pleaded.

"We can't leave her here unprotected Sam. I won't let you do that. She's involved in this now whether you want her to be or not."

"She'll never believe it."

"Well, we're about to find out aren't we?" There was a tell-tale rattling at the door of someone putting a key in the lock.

Jessica was home from work.

* * *

A/N: I've missed Dean so much and I'm glad to have him back in this story. Its fun to have him to play with again and I love playing him and Sam off each other. And I'm all caught up with my prologue so now the real fun begins (not that I haven't loved putting Sammy through the emotional wringer thus far…)


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 19

October 26, 2005

"She'll never believe it," Sam muttered

"Well, we're about to find out aren't we?" Dean paused and cocked his head to the side. There was a tell-tale rattling at the door of someone putting a key in the lock.

Jessica was home from work.

"You can't tell her!" he hissed at his brother. He moved to the table to sweep up the collection of beer bottles and stuffed them under the sink.

"Fine!" Dean hissed back and plastered a fake smile on his face as he came to stand next to him where he'd taken root in the middle of the kitchen.

"Sam?" Jess called from the entryway. "Baby, you should come out front and check out the car parked on the street. Man, my dad would _kill_ for a car like that…" her voice trailed off as she entered the kitchen and stopped short as she took in the stranger standing next to him. "Um, hello."

"Jess," he cut in and stepped up next to her, casually putting an arm around her shoulders. "This is Dean."

"Your brother Dean?" Her eyebrow quirked up and a smile bloomed full force across her beautiful face. "I'm so happy to finally meet you," she said earnestly as she stepped forward with her hand out.

"A handshake?" Dean grinned evilly. Sam hadn't missed the appraising once-over his brother had given Jessica when she entered the kitchen. "Come on," he smirked, holding his arms wide, "We're practically family." And he wrapped her in a hug that was completely unexpected and he winked at his younger brother as he pointedly looked down Jessica's backside as he hugged her. Giving him a thumbs up behind her back, Dean let go of his girlfriend and stepped back. Giving her a disarming smile and leaning back against the kitchen counter, he asked, "So you like my car, huh?"

"That beast out front is yours?" Jessica was responding to the charm that Dean exuded like cheap cologne, and for the sake of his stomach and the meager contents within, he put his arm around Jess again and held her tight to his side. The silent, '_Back off_,' only made Dean's grin even broader.

"Yeah, it was our dad's first, but he gave it to me a while ago. I love that car."

"You can tell," Jess nodded appreciatively. "Those are the original showcase rims right? Very rare. You guys have taken good care of her."

"You know Baby's a 'Her' and you know original rims?" Dean's eyebrows shot up with delight. "Sammy, how did you manage to luck into this chick? She's obviously way out of your league."

"Just lucky she's got such poor standards I guess," he ground out, holding her even tighter against him.

Jessica, not one to miss the tone of the room, stiffened a bit and asked, "So, Dean, what brings you to Palo Alto?"

"Well Sammy of course…" but whatever else he was about to say got cut off in the dark warning look that he shot his older brother. "Well, there was some business I've got to attend to, and I figured that since I was only a few hours out, that I'd like to stop in on my little brother and see what sort of trouble he's be up to." He pointedly looked Jessica up and down and Sam could feel the heat of her blush at the shameless ogling. "Can I say how incredibly hot you are, without it sounding weird?"

"N-No," she stuttered, clearly embarrassed if the deep shade of red she just turned was any indication. "No, not weird at all."

"Dean," he threatened.

"Just stating fact Dude. Yeesh, don't want people appreciating the beauty of your girl, don't get such a pretty one."

Jessica blushed again and said, "So, um, are you staying here for awhile?" And Sam couldn't tell by the sound of her voice whether that idea made her happy or anxious.

"Well, I was hoping to hit the road again here shortly." Dean nodded towards him and continued, "I was actually hoping to talk Sammy into coming with me. It's been so long since, well, you know…" he trailed off and flapped a hand dismissively in a vain hope that she knew of some godforsaken reason that he and Sam hadn't spoken in the last year.

"I think it's nice that you want to reconnect with your brother." And damn didn't she sound utterly sincere about it.

"Well, now that I've had a chance to see why Sammy's so keen to keep you all to himself," Dean scrubbed the back of his neck in a falsely shy way that made him want to kick him, "I'd kinda like you to come along too." The hopeful half-smile he gave her definitely had Sam seeing red. Not because of the flirting – he'd expected that – but because he was bringing Jess into this against his wishes.

"Dean, Jess won't want to…"

"I'd love to." Both had spoken at the same moment and halted awkwardly.

"You don't want me to come?" The hurt in her voice cut into him and he had to stiffen his resolve. Just because Dean thought it best to keep her with them, didn't mean that he was right.

"I figured you'd have to work," he offered sheepishly, trying to smooth over ruffled feathers.

"I haven't been called in to work at the schools yet, and I can pick my shifts at the restaurant. It's not a problem."

"You see that Sammy," Dean clapped his hands eagerly. "It's not a problem."

"Jess…" he pleaded.

"Either you want me along or you don't Sam. Which is it?" She was fighting to keep her voice under control, and to keep the obvious irritation towards him out of it. It was obvious she didn't want to pass up this rare opportunity to get to know his wayward brother, or learn more about his past, which he was sure was constantly on her mind.

"Of course I'd like you to come…" The '_but_' got strangled out by Dean's hands clapping again.

"Well that's settled then," he grinned and put a companionable arm around Jess's shoulders and gave them a squeeze. "Glad to have you aboard. Why don't you go pack a few things while Sammy and I talk for a minute." She was distracted by the mega-watt smile that Dean gave her, and man did he ever want to kick his brother in the fucking head for it.

"How long are we gone for?"

Dean shrugged non-committedly. "A day or so, shouldn't take much more time than that."

"It sounds like fun," she smiled, "Where are we going?"

"Out towards Sonora, actually. I have to go meet a guy out there – an old friend of ours – and then maybe we can hit a bar or something and have some fun. Did Sam ever tell you about how we used to hustle pool?"

"Dean!" he barked.

"Guess he didn't." Dean gave him an apologetic shrug that plainly said '_What are you gonna do about it?_' and returned his smile to Jessica who was now looking at Sam with a mix of mirth and curiosity.

Sam glared at his brother, while Jessica giggled. "You? You used to hustle pool?"

"He was pretty good at it too," Dean added. "But not as good as me." He gave her a lewd wink and a grin and Jessica blushed again. "I taught him everything he knows."

"Um, I'll just go pack then, and… ah… let you two talk." She beat a hasty retreat out of the kitchen, ears flaming red trying to bite down the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

When he could hear her rummaging through the closet in their room, he rounded on his brother. "Why did you do that?" he hissed.

"What? Tell her you've hustled pool? Big deal."

"No," he said as levelly as he could. "Why did you invite her along? I don't want her in danger."

"Hate to break it to you, Champ, but you put her in danger the minute you fell for her. I told you you'd get her caught in the crossfire!" Dean hissed, trying to keep his voice down so that the object of the conversation didn't overhear.

He could feel his nostrils flare as his jaw tightened. He did not need further reminders of Dean's prophetic argument that day so long ago.

"But no," Dean continued, "You just had to live the American dream, didn't you? And look where that's gotten you."

He couldn't help himself when he grabbed Dean by the shirtfront and reared a fist back.

"Go ahead," he taunted him with a malicious glint in his eyes. "Be awful hard to explain to her why my nose is bleeding in her kitchen." Sam reluctantly let go and let his fist fall to his side. "Good." Dean brushed his hands at his shirt to straighten out the bunched up fabric. "Besides, I think she likes me."

"You keep your hands off her!" he growled.

"Got so little faith in your woman, Sammy?" The obnoxious grin was back and bigger than ever.

"I've got little faith in you keeping your hands to yourself, Dickhead."

"Come on, when have I ever snaked a girl out from under you?"

"Rachel? My prom date? On prom night? Ringing any bells?"

"Rachel?" Dean's face screwed up in concentration as he tried to place the random name with the random faces of his past. "Was that the girl in the Gone with the Wind dress?"

"That was her prom dress, and yes, that was her."

"Well you dodged a bullet there Sammy – she was terrible. I've had better sex with myself."

"Dude!" He couldn't help his fist clenching at his side. He had an angel in the other room, he shouldn't care about someone from his past that didn't really matter.

"Look," Dean cut in forcefully, "We're taking Jessica with us, so suck it up. And I promise I won't try and coax her into bed with me. You've been nailing her for the past year… having a chance in bed with a man who knows what he's doing would probably kill her."

"Dean…"

"Oh good, you're packed." he exclaimed happily as Jess came back down the hallway. "Let's get going shall we?" He held out an elbow for Jessica and she giggled at the lavish attention as Dean led her out towards the door, leaving his brother to grab up his duffle bag from the hall closet where he'd stashed it and follow them out, locking the door behind him.

* * *

They were half-way to Sonora when Dean pulled over for gas. The trip had been full of animated chatter between Jess and Dean, and he tried to keep his dour disposition out of it. Jess was along for the ride now whether he wanted her there or not, and for the moment, she was quite content being swept up in Dean's charm. Amazingly, Dean hadn't made one reference to the supernatural or their unique upbringing, and was regaling Jess with harmless stories of their childhood. From bullies to embarrassing situations, Dean put himself in the spotlight as much as he put Sam there, and Jessica was laughing with delight in the back seat at the glimpses into his past.

While Dean was filling the Impala, Jess offered to go across the street and grab a couple of slices and some cokes from the pizza parlor there. Dean had beamed at her and told her they'd wait for her at the picnic table at the edge of the garage's parking lot.

Once Jess was safely out of earshot, "So what's with the trip to Sonora, huh?" he demanded because he hadn't had a chance to ask what the deal was.

"Your dude is there, isn't he?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Well Genius, forgive me if I'd like to go up against this demon with as much information as possible."

"What the hell is this Jay guy gonna tell us?"

"I don't know, but you seem to think that that Mel girl knew something. Who's to say that Jay hasn't learned anything about what's been going on?"

"Dean, he might not even be affected. That's just Wilson's speculation." He rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Well, once we meet him, we'll find out if he's got anything up his sleeve that he shouldn't have. You've gotten visions, Melissa could see demons under the people they were wearing… maybe this guy can shoot laser beams outta his ass or something cool like that."

"Dude," he chastised him. The last thing he wanted was his brother undermining the bad shit that was happening to him.

Dean held up a hand to cut him off. "Enough. As senior hunter in this outfit, and the only current cardholder, I say we meet Jay and have a nice friendly chat with him."

"And what about Jessica?"

"We'll figure that one when we get there." Dean gestured towards the street where Jess was just emerging from the pizza place. Sam shot his brother a dirty look at the obvious leering he was giving his girlfriend, and jogged across the narrow street to help her with the food in her arms.

* * *

They were cruising through the nearly dark Sonora back streets looking for Jay's mother's house. A song came on the radio, Dean grimaced and reached to flip the dial when Jess shot forward in her seat.

"Oh please don't change that, I like that song."

"Jessica, it's the Tragically Hip," Dean rolled his eyes as if that were all the excuse he needed to turn it off.

"It's _'Highway Girl_,' and it's a great song," she insisted.

"Okay, you've just been bumped back to '_Border-line Perfect_'," Dean groused. "Knew there had to be something wrong with you."

"Gord Downie is a lyrical genius," Jess shot back.

"No, Geddy Lee is a lyrical genius. _Robert Plant_ is a lyrical genius. This guy's just a schmuck."

Sam interrupted their good-natured bickering by pointing out a small yellow house just up the street. "There it is."

Dean pulled up to the curb and cut the engine. "Why don't you go up and see if ole buddy Jay is home, Sammy?"

"Sure thing, I'll signal if he's in," he said while he pushed open the heavy door.

"What? Why…?" but Jessica's confused questioning was cut off when he shut the door and walked up the driveway. He didn't look back, trusting Dean to keep her occupied and keep her from leaving the car. But if he so much as laid a hand on her…

He took a deep breath, reached up and pressed the doorbell. Stepping back respectfully, he bounced slightly on the balls of his feet while waiting for someone to come to the door.

He had no clue what he was going to say to this guy.

It turned out he didn't have to worry about that at the moment. The door was opened by a thin and ravaged looking woman who looked a little shocked to find someone on her doorstep. The thin and lanky hair and dark circles under her eyes were testament to the chemo-therapy she was going through and he felt a wash of pity for her.

"Good evening. Ms. Barowitz?" he asked with as much friendly demeanor he could muster.

"Yes?" There was a definite wariness to her voice.

"Hi, my name's Gordon Downie," and he winced internally at using that alias. He had always given his brother grief whenever he'd used musician's names instead of random generic ones, and here, he just did it himself. "I'm looking for Jay – is he home?"

"No, sorry, but he's not in right now." She was clutching at the front of her sweater like she was trying to wrap it tighter around her.

_The poor thing is probably always cold…_

"Do you expect him back soon?" He hoped that his face looked unthreatening enough that she would tell him what he wanted to know.

"I don't think he will be. Who are you again?"

"Oh, sorry. It's Gordon, ma'am. Jay and I used to surf together," he offered, hoping to loosen her up some.

"You did? Where?"

_Yup, definitely wary_.

"In Perth actually. We met there during a competition last year. Jay came in fourth – I didn't even place." He gave her a sheepish sideways grin and a full dose of the puppy eyes. "Anyway, I heard he was back in California, and I'm on my way to Yosemite with my girlfriend and brother. I just thought I'd try to catch up with him on my way through," he shrugged, still trying to disarm that suspicious nature of hers.

It seemed to work. At least she told him where her son was. "He's at O'Reilly's bar," she nodded in the general direction of downtown. "Don't keep him out too late." She shut the door in his face and he couldn't help but think that she wasn't the friendliest bird, but it didn't really matter – she had enough problems.

He jogged back to the car and dropped into the front seat. "He's at a bar called O'Reilly's."

"Awesome. Knew we'd be able to hit a bar," Dean grinned and cranked the Impala's key.

She growled to life and he glanced over his shoulder at Jess. "Dean behaving himself?" he asked her.

"If that's behaving, I'd hate to see what he's like when he's misbehaving." She rolled her eyes, but they were glittering with laughter.

"Hey! I offered to take you to Vegas for a drive-thru wedding first didn't I?" Faking indignance, Dean pulled back onto the street and headed for the downtown area. It was a small town, and like all small towns, the main area was normally no more that two or three main streets. O'Reilly's wouldn't be hard to find.

* * *

They parked out back of a low brick building with neon lights and blacked over windows. There was no bouncer at the door, and only a few vehicles parked out back. It was early evening still, and the heavier bar traffic was not due to hit the joint until later. The only ones here would be the ones with nowhere better to be.

Whatever lie Dean told Jess why they were looking for this guy, he didn't know. But Jess was contentedly following along and not asking questions, so the story must have been a good one. Dean was a hell of a convincing liar.

They walked into the bar and both hunters surreptitiously scanned the room. Sam knew that Dean was taking in the patrons, the exits, and most likely ambush spots, just like he was doing himself. It was during the quiet surveillance that he noticed a guy sitting by himself at a back booth and nursing a beer. He discreetly nudged his brother in the arm and gave a half nod in Jay's direction while scratching the side of his nose.

Dean turned to Jess and gave her a beaming smile. "You look like you like to dance," he winked.

"Are you asking? Because there isn't much that I can do to lure Sam out there on a dance floor," she giggled.

"He just doesn't have my moves is all," he teased. "Or my natural grace and agility."

"Or your humble nature and debilitating modesty?" she teased him back.

"Nope. He ain't got those either." He reached out and gently grabbed her elbow, towing her towards the dance floor where they were the only people out there. Sam had to smirk to himself – Dean looked like an idiot out there.

He made his way to the back of the bar and the booth with Jay Barowitz in it. He stopped by the booth and cleared his throat, making Jay look up in alarm. Dude must have a lot on his mind to not notice a six-four guy standing next to him.

"Hi. Jay Barowitz?" The guy nodded and Sam pushed forward. "I'm Sam – can I talk to you for a minute?" He didn't wait for an answer before dropping into the seat opposite the guy.

"What about, Buddy?" the guy's eyebrow shot up and he took a tentative sip of his beer.

Sam still didn't know how to ask this guy anything that wouldn't sound crazy, or worse, like a bad pick-up line, but he had a sudden inspiration. If he had met Mel in a dream, and **if** this guy was being hunted by the demon, maybe he had met her in his sleep too.

He pulled out a piece if paper from his shirt pocket. It was a picture of Mel from the article in the paper just after she'd died. He smoothed out the paper and laid it flat on the table top, spinning it around so that Mel's dark eyes were looking right up at the guy.

"Do you know who this girl is?" he asked.

"Sure." Dude took a swig of beer before leaning over the paper and taking an even better look.

Sam couldn't help the wash of alarm that spread over him. _He knows her…_

"So you _do_ know her," he clarified.

"Yeah, it's Teddy Pitero's girl. Melissa." He took another drink and leaned back in the booth.

"Wait, you know who Teddy Pitero is?" He hadn't figured on that. What else did this guy know?

"Yeah, Teddy's an old friend of my mom's," Jay shrugged. "Never knew why – she didn't seem to like him all that much, but she never told him to go away when he showed up. Sometimes he'd have Mel with him." He shrugged again non-committedly.

_Okay, so maybe Teddy didn't just send money when he could – he tried to visit now and again too_.

"So you knew Mel while you were growing up?" Sam asked, trying to dig a little deeper.

"Yeah, like I said, sometimes Teddy would have her with him when he came by. There were a few times he took me and Mel hiking in the park, but I haven't seen her since before her dad died. Why are you asking me this, Bud?"

"Um, well, Mel died a few months ago."

"I heard about that. She committed suicide didn't she?"

Sam swallowed back the emotion that rose in his throat. Mel had taken the only path that she thought was left to her. "Yeah… up at Wapama Falls."

"Teddy took us up there once..." Jay gently brushed the side of her face with a long finger.

_I'll bet he plays guitar_, Sam mused.

"There was this really nice spot on the way where we took a break and you could look down the side of the cliff and see the lake far down below. Mel and I were throwing rocks over the edge and Ted yelled at us to get away from the ledge before we fell."

"That's where she did it," he whispered, more to himself than to Jay.

He could remember every detail of that night. The bright moon, the metallic scent of the minerals in the lake below, the silver tear sliding down her pale face. And the fucking smile of relief she wore as she slipped over the edge. He could still see her falling when he closed his eyes and allowed the memory to take shape. Mel getting smaller and smaller as she plummeted – her arms out wide like a bird's wings…

And then it hit him.

_Mel and I were throwing rocks over the edge…_

She had been tossing rocks over the edge of the cliff that night. She had also scratched a note in a flat rock before turning it over to protect it from the elements. He couldn't read in the dreams – it had been all messed up. If he could get up there and find the rock, Mel's last message might have the answer he was looking for.

_How could I have forgotten the rock?_ he chastised himself.

"Why are you asking me about this, Buddy?" Jay had the same suspicious look his mother did.

"Mel and I knew each other… sorta."

Jay gave him a scrutinizing look. "You said your name was Sam?"

"Yeah," he drawled slowly, trying to figure out why the guy opposite him was looking at him that way.

Jay gave a huff of forbearance and closed his eyes. "She told me about you," he whispered.

"She _what_?" Sam hissed as he leaned forward.

"Mel – she called me back in the middle of June," Jay offered with a shrug. "Don't ask me how she found my number in Australia, I sincerely doubt she called my mom and asked her for it. Mom never exactly hid her dislike for her. But she found me, and asked me if…" he trailed off.

"If what, Jay?" he whispered, leaning forward even more as the guy's voice was getting softer and softer the more he spoke.

"She asked me if there was anything strange happening to me the last couple months." Sam almost missed the end of the statement, Jay had said it so softly.

"Was there?"

Jay didn't answer his question though, just continued to whisper shakily to the tabletop. "She told me about you. She said that she thought you were okay – she wasn't completely sure – but she thought you might be okay."

"What happened to you Jay?" he pressed, needing to know.

Jay took a deep breath and held his hand out towards the salt and pepper shakers on the table. His fingers shook slightly as if from bad nerves or withdrawal, and then there was a faint sliding noise as the salt shaker moved on its own accord towards them – inching its way across the table by invisible fingers.

Sam shot back in his seat from shock. "Holy fuck!"

Jay dropped his hand and looked mournfully at him. "The heavier an object is, the harder it is… but I'm getting pretty good at it. Gives me a bitch of a headache though."

"When did it start Jay?" he whispered urgently.

"March? I think? After my birthday anyway. They were the most freaktastic dreams," Jay shuddered.

"Was there a man there?"

"Yeah, scary dude with a monster." Jay swallowed thickly, and then seemed to remember his beer. He upended he bottle and set it heavily back on the table.

"This is important Jay," Sam hissed, grabbing the guy by the wrist to get his attention. "Did he say anything to you?"

"The scary dude?"

"Yeah, him."

Jay swallowed again and gave him a scared look. "He told me not to fight it."

"Fight what?"

"It," Jay shrugged. "I don't know what **_it_** is. But he told me to stop fighting it. It's like there was all this room in my head one morning, and it was fucking freaky, but I stopped fighting against it, and the dreams stopped, and then I realized that I could move things with my mind."

"Holy shit." Sam breathed.

"You know what I'm talking about, Bud?" Dude gave him a hopeful, soul-searching look, and it made Sam feel sick to his stomach – like riding an amusement park ride where you plummet suddenly and your guts fly up into your throat and you think you'll hurl all over the person next to you.

He swallowed down the bile that was lodged in his throat. "Yeah," he whispered hoarsely, "Yeah, I know what you're talking about."

"Can you do anything?"

"Nothing like you. I have visions. I was having visions of Mel while I was sleeping where I could talk to her. She could see me but no one else could. She could also see demons inside the humans they were possessing."

"Demons? Like real demons? From Hell?" Jay leaned forward and hissed the words like they were the dirtiest of curse words.

"They don't come from anywhere else."

"Fuck. Demons are real?"

"Along with every other campfire story you've ever heard," he pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking of all the different hunts he'd been on during his life.

"Monsters are real?" The guy was completely incredulous.

"As real as you moving the salt shaker with your mind, Jay."

"Fuck." Jay sank his head into his hands and braced his elbows on the table. "Fuck."

"You can say that again."

"Why is this happening to us?" he moaned into his palms.

Sam sighed, trying to determine how much to tell the guy, and deciding that Jay Barowitz needed the whole truth.

"Do you know who your father is, Jay?" Sam asked softly. The unexpected question brought Jay's head up, longish hair hanging in his face.

"My father?" His face scrunched up. "No, my mom never told me."

He sighed again, knowing that the deluge of information he was about to give the guy would be hard pill to swallow. "Teddy Pitero is your father, Jay."

"No. That's not possible," Jay hissed with disbelief.

"It's entirely possible, and completely true. Your mom and Teddy had an affair while he was married to Mel's mom. He broke things off with your mom when he found out that Holly was pregnant, but then your mom called him a month later to tell him about you. He opted to stay with Holly, and told your mom that he would give her what he could. A few months into Holly's pregnancy, she started having complications, and nearly died. The only reason that she didn't, was because a demon came to Teddy and told him that she could save their lives in exchange for a favor."

"Dude," Jay interrupted, "…you're outta your mind."

"Same thing likely happened to my parents."

"You don't know? You didn't ask them?"

"My mom died in a fire when I was a baby," he explained. "Killed by something supernatural… but now I'm thinking she was killed by the demon that made the deal. Ever since her death, my dad has been out for revenge, and my brother and I…" he gestured towards the dance floor where Jessica was giggling while being twirled around by Dean, "…We've been hunting monsters all our lives."

"I don't believe you," Jay whispered. "This is bullshit."

"As bullshit as you moving things with your mind, and me seeing your death a few days ago?" Sam knew it was a cheap shot, but he needed Jay on the ball field.

He went pale. "My death?" Jay croaked.

"Yeah, which is why me and my brother are here. You're in danger, my girlfriend is in danger, and I want that demon sonofabitch back in hell so I can get my life back."

"We're in danger?" he parroted and Sam resisted the urge to lean forward, grab him by the front of the shirt and shake him.

"Jay!" he snapped his fingers in front of his rapidly glazing eyes. "Look, I know this is a lot, but Mel is your half-sister, demons are real and are gunning for our asses as we speak, and we need to do something about it."

"What do we do?" he breathed.

"My brother and I were going to summon him tonight, and exorcise him back to hell. But we wanted to meet with you first and see what you knew before we went up against this guy blind. I didn't realize that Teddy Pitero visited you – let alone that he took Mel there with him. She killed herself up at Wapama Falls, but she left a message on a rock up there before she jumped…"

"Wait! She left a message? How do you know that?" Jay demanded.

"It was during one of my dream walks. I saw her up there – I tried to talk her down. But she was done. She said that she wasn't going to be used by the demon that was after her, that the demon had plans for her – and she was having no part of it. She thought it was the only way out for her. But she left me a message on a rock, and I think you know where that ledge is from the nature hikes that Teddy took the two of you on. Can you take me up there to see what clue she left behind?"

"What makes you think that it's a clue of some kind that she left for you up there?"

"The demon was leaning on her hard and I think it was because Mel found out something. I don't know how, and I don't know what, but she learned something and I need to know what it was."

"Look – Mel was just… Mel," Jay blubbered, still trying to wrap his head around everything he was learning right now. "She was just a normal girl. This is all crazy."

Sam huffed in annoyance and picked up the salt shaker and flung it angrily at the seat back next to Jay's shoulder. "It's fucking real, Man!" Jay flinched but didn't get up and leave. He seemed to be trying to shrink into the vinyl seat covering the booth seat. "It's. Fucking. Real." He ground out through clenched teeth. "And we're all going to die unless we stop that sonofabitch."

"Buddy," Jay shook his head at him, his eyes wide and full of fear, "…I'm just a guy. I don't know how to fight monsters."

"You don't have to," Sam managed to say somewhat calmly. "My brother and I will do all the heavy lifting, Man. I just need you to show me where that ledge is. I need that message from your sister."

"Melissa was my sister," Jay whispered more to himself than to him. He looked up suddenly and looked him square in the eyes. "Do you think she knew?" he asked him. "That I was her brother?"

"Maybe. It may be why she called you to find out if there was anything happening to you."

Jay looked down onto the dance floor where Dean and Jessica were still goofing around. "That's your brother and girlfriend?"

"Yeah."

"Did anything happen to your brother like what happened to us?" There was a hopeful lilt to his voice at the question.

"No. No, it was just me."

"So it's not necessarily a family thing?"

"Doesn't seem to be."

"That fucking demon took the price out on both our heads?" And there was a trace of anger entering into the guy's voice now. Anger and fear – just the fuel a person needed to step out beyond themselves.

"Yeah, he did," he agreed. "Are you gonna help us or what?"

"You say you saw my death?"

"I saw yours, and I saw Jessica's. I'm not gonna let that happen."

Jay seemed to be deep in thought for a moment. The lines in his forehead became more pronounced and he was clenching his jaw in anger. Suddenly, the pepper shaker still on the table started to vibrate. Jay looked hard at it and it suddenly shot across the table and skittered and rolled down the floor, winding up under another booth, several places away.

"Fine. I'll help you. I'll take you up there."


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 20

October 26, 2005

"Fine. I'll do it. I'll take you up there." Jay gave him a determined, grim-faced look.

"Thanks Jay," Sam whispered. "I promise we'll send that evil sonofabitch packing."

"Can you kill him?"

"You can't kill a demon. All we can do is send him back to hell."

"And he'll be trapped there forever." Jay said this with such an air of finality that he hated to burst his bubble.

"Well… he can get back out. But it's not easy, otherwise there would be demons everywhere."

Jay's face paled again. "You mean he could still come back and finish us off later?"

"Jay, this is the only plan we've got. We can't kill him – it can't be done."

"This fucking blows," Jay growled.

"Preaching to the choir, Pal."

"I guess your neck is as much on the line as mine is," Jay muttered angrily, shredding at the napkin his beer had been served on.

"It's not just my neck – hers too." He nodded towards the dance floor. Dean caught his nod and quirked an eyebrow at him. Sam nodded minutely, and Dean stopped spinning Jessica around and started to lead her towards their booth.

"They're coming up," he told him rather unnecessarily. "She doesn't know anything."

"What – wait. She doesn't _know_?"

"I'd like to keep it that way."

"How the hell are we gonna manage to keep this from her?" Jay was giving him a look as if he were questioning his sanity – and considering what they'd been talking about this evening – that was saying something.

"We tell her we're going for a hike. We find the spot, we find the rock, and then we hide her somewhere while we summon the asshole later and exorcise him."

"Why didn't you just leave her _home_?" the guy stressed.

He rolled his eyes. "I wanted to. Dean wouldn't let me. He said we were better able to protect her if she was with us. I didn't have much choice in the matter as she was walking in the door at the time and he would have done something rash and stupid to get his way."

"…It's '_I get off on '57 Chevy's'_" Jess groaned while giggling, the pair maneuvering around a couple chairs that were pulled out a little far from their tables. "…Not _'67 Chevy's_." They were discussing the song they'd been dancing to – Eric Clapton's 'Rock and Roll Heart.'

"Hey, give me an hour in the Impala and I'll change your mind on that one." Dean winked at her and grinned cheekily.

Jess backhanded him lightly in the stomach before dropping down onto the bench seat next to him while Dean slid in next to Jay.

"Your brother is incorrigible," she complained to him, still laughing.

"Yeah, he looked like an idiot out there too," he held up four fingers to a passing waitress who nodded and went to the beer fridges behind the bar.

"Dude, I got like three moves," Dean defended himself. "Usually by the third one, the chick is leaving the joint with me. Not that I wasn't trying." He smirked at Jess and pointed a finger at her. "You, Sweetheart, are a tough nut to crack."

Jess rolled her eyes at him before holding her hand out over the table to Jay. "I'm Jessica – you must be Jay?"

Jay took her hand and gave it a brief shake. "Yeah. It's nice to meet you."

The waitress came by and set four beers on the table in front of them. Dean pulled a couple bills out of his pocket and tossed them on the girl's tray, forgoing his usual flirting – the waitress wasn't that pretty.

"So how've you been, Jay Buddy?" Dean asked while taking a healthy swallow of his beer. "It's been a long time, Dude."

"Yeah," Jay answered hesitantly, but played along. "A real long time."

"So what's the plan now, Sammy?" his brother asked.

"Well, Jay wants to take us up to this spot in Hetch Hetchy – said it's a must-see."

"You hear that Jess? More road-trip." Dean teased her.

"Joy," she rolled her eyes. Sam reached under the table and gave a slight squeeze to her knee-cap. She grinned back at him and leaned against his side, letting the warmth of her body flow into his. He hadn't realized how _cold_ he was lately.

There was some more light chat around the table. Jay was mostly silent so the bulk of the conversation was Dean teasing Jessica and her shooting him down. After Jess had finished her beer, she excused herself from the table and started to head towards the washrooms at the back. Dean got up too and Jess turned and frowned at him.

"If you think you're gonna follow me into the bathroom, Buster…"

"The world doesn't revolve around you, Princess. The Gent's is right next to the Ladies." Dean brushed past her on his way to the can, and Jess looked slightly abashed. Turning, she headed towards the washrooms and disappeared from sight.

Sam might have felt nervous about having her out here and out of sight, if it wasn't for the fact that Dean was less than ten feet from her in the men's room. Once he got over the initial irritation of Dean's flirting with Jess, he began to see some reason behind it. Dean, while seemingly all over her, was guarding her pure and simple. He was a fucking pit bull guarding his master – and if that master had suddenly become a tall, leggy blond instead of his gargantuan baby brother or his asshole father – then so be it – Jessica would be kept safe. But he wasn't about to delude himself into thinking that Dean wasn't enjoying himself immensely while he was at it.

"She seems nice," Jay murmured into his beer bottle.

"She's the best," he replied softly.

"So we go up to Hetch Hetchy in the morning and look for that rock on the ledge?" Jay asked, reiterating the plan.

"Yeah. We'll get a room at a motel near your place. Here, let me give you my number in case something comes up." He recited his cell number while Jay programmed it into his phone. He programmed Jay's number into his phone as the surfer mumbled the number. "Call me if anything comes up, or if something doesn't feel right."

"Sure thing." Jay paused a moment before asking, "Do you expect trouble or something?"

"I'm not sure. Anything could happen I guess – what with both of us here. Mel was convinced that the demon was watching us – but I don't understand how he could be."

"She was really scared at the end – wasn't she." It was a statement and not a question.

"Jay… _I'm_ scared, and I've been fighting monsters for most of my life."

_You'd be crazy not to be scared_.

"She should have stopped fighting it – it was so much easier when I stopped fighting it."

Sam fisted his hand under the table to keep from reaching across the table and decking the guy. "Fighting back is all we've got," he growled.

Jay harrumphed into his beer. "Looks like my sister had more guts than me, huh? I'd never be able to jump to my death."

"Maybe it was guts, and maybe it wasn't. She said that she was tired of being afraid, and tired of being hunted. Maybe she took an easy way out."

"Becoming a grease stain on the rocks doesn't sound like an easy out to me."

"But being a demon's bitch does?" Sam shot back.

Jay looked up sharply, eyes dark and narrowed, and suddenly, one of the empty bottles on the table exploded. Jay's eyes went wide with shock at the splinted shards of glass and specks of beer littering the table.

_Okay, he hadn't meant to do that_.

"I…I…" he stammered, still staring aghast at the broken bottle and reaching a tentative hand towards the mess before pulling back sharply.

"It's okay Jay," he tried to say it soothingly. "You didn't know what would happen when you stopped fighting. You didn't know."

As horrified as he was at Jay's ability to move objects with his mind, he had to admit to a certain curiosity about it too. "How do you do it anyway? How do you look at something and make it move?"

"The first time it happened, I was on the beach in Bunbury, like, a hundred miles outside of Perth. There were a bunch of us out there, and I was having one of those killer headaches – you know what I mean, Bud?" Sam nodded in agreement. He knew exactly what he meant. "So anyway, day after Scary Dude tells me to stop fighting, got a killer headache, the boys are already paddling out into the surf, and I've got a problem with the fin on my board. So I fix the fin, but I still need to wax her, and my wax was mostly buried in the sand and out of reach. So I'm holding my board and leaning for the wax and it's out of reach, but I stretch for it anyway, and I was thinking '_just fucking move_' and suddenly, it jumped in the sand and came towards me a few inches. I was so shocked I fell back on my ass and my board fell over and the fucking fin snapped. But I felt this _zing _snap through me too, and it felt _good_."

"So you just think, '_come here_' and it works?"

"Hardly. That first time was a fluke, because the next time I tried it, I nearly passed out and nothing happened anyway. I… I don't know how to explain it – it's like taking all the space in my head, and making it into a black hole and using the pull of a black hole to bring the object towards me – or push it away."

Sam looked at a shard of glass a few inches away from his fingers.

_Could I do it?_ he asked himself

Jay had said that heavier objects were harder to move – how hard would a tiny piece of glass be? He extended his fingers towards the glass like he'd seen Jay do earlier with the salt shaker. He could feel each individual hair on the back of his neck prickling as he concentrated on that shard moving towards him.

"Empty your mind of everything but that piece of glass," Jay whispered, leaning forward in his seat in anticipation.

He could feel his fingers shaking, and he could feel sweat starting to build in his hair, but still he concentrated on the glass shard.

_Come on, move!_

He could feel something alien creeping into him. He wasn't sure what it was, and he couldn't tell if it was good or bad. Was this the beginning of that '_Zing_' that Jay had mentioned?

_Come on!_

Whatever was happening inside his body, it was building. It was like a tingle that was spreading from his feet and moving its way up to his head. He knew that as soon as that tingle reached his brain, that shard of glass would move and he concentrated that much harder. The tingle was in his chest now. It was causing a warm feeling to pass throughout his body like a shot of good whiskey on a cold day.

_Almost there…_

He heard footsteps coming up behind him – a pair of footsteps – and he let his hand drop. Jay sat back looking a little crestfallen as Dean and Jessica dropped back into the booth.

"You okay, Baby?" She rubbed his knee under the table, looking at him with concern. "You look a little flushed."

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered automatically. Dean was giving him a scrutinizing look, but he couldn't have any idea what Sam had been trying to do – he didn't know that Jay was telekinetic, and he didn't think that was something he should share with his brother just yet.

Jess reached out and used a couple napkins to sop up some of the beer on the table, and pushed the bits of glass into a pile.

"Yeah," Jay rubbed a hand on the back of his neck nervously, "I knocked that over. Sorry."

"How about we get out of here for the night?" Sam offered. "We'll get a room nearby and get an early start on that hike in the morning?"

"That sounds like a good idea." Jess agreed. "I am a little tired – it's been a long day."

"Did you walk here Jay, or do you want a ride home?" Dean asked the guy, clearly not wanting to run the risk of this guy walking home alone with a demon on his ass.

"A ride sounds awesome. Thanks, Bud."

They made their way out, Dean leaning close to Jay and saying something softly to him. Sam distinctly heard the word 'salt' and knew that Dean was instructing the guy to lay salt lines around his room to keep him safe.

He placed a hand gently on Jessica's lower back, walking her out of the bar. He could feel the small hairs on his neck standing up, and he turned and glanced about the rapidly filling bar, but he didn't notice anyone paying any particular interest in them. He felt like he was being completely paranoid, but damn he couldn't help but feel like they were being watched.

* * *

October 27, 2005

_(- - Gear Jammer, by George Thorogood - -) playing on car radio_

"You pull in up there." Jay leaned forward from his place in the back seat and pointed at a wooden sign at the end of an upcoming road.

Dean nodded, and signaled, slowing down for the turn into the Backpacker's campground where they were going to park the Impala while they hiked up to the ledge. There were butterflies in his stomach at the thought of going up there and seeing again the place where Melissa took her life. He swallowed down the nerves as Dean pulled the car into a space and cut the engine.

They all piled out of the car, and he pulled Jess forward to check out the community board where group hikes were posted, and to see if there were warnings posted about fire bans and wild animals in the area. He wasn't too worried about normal wild animals – they were packing enough ammo to bring down an elephant. No, he was distracting her so that Dean could get the gear out of the trunk without her seeing the arsenal therein.

When they had gotten to the motel room last night – one a hell of a lot nicer than the normal digs they were used to – Jess had taken a few minutes in the bathroom to get ready for bed. He and Dean had a quick and hushed conversation about taking turns on watch. Dean had wanted to lay salt lines, and he had adamantly refused. How the hell was he supposed to explain that one to her? Dean was about to snap back at him when Jess came out of the bathroom and Dean's eyes had gone wide at the little shorts and t-shirt that she normally wore to bed. He had to refrain from jabbing Dean in the ribs to make him stop with the slack-jawed look he was giving her, when she quickly hopped into one of the beds and pulled the blankets up over her, hiding her from Dean's view.

"I don't want to see or hear anything coming from that bed," Dean had hissed so softly that Jess wouldn't have been able to hear.

"Don't worry, you won't."

They had taken two hour guard shifts so that they wouldn't get over-tired, and they'd both get a decent amount of sleep. Jess had slept like a baby the whole night, not stirring when he got up to relieve Dean his post in the chair by the door. The shotgun was in easy reach leaning up against the side of the armchair, but on the opposite side of the chair so that Jess couldn't see it from the bed if she were to wake up.

He had checked the rounds in the shotgun, wondering what was in there for ammo because it didn't feel heavy enough for buckshot. Buckshot was good for a lot of things, but as a defense against supernatural enemies, it wasn't very efficient. Dean had noticed him turning the shell around in his fingers, and whispered that he and dad were filling them with rock salt now. "It's very effective," he added.

Sam was willing to bet that it was indeed _very_ effective. The virtues of salt were widely known to all hunters, but to take one of the best weapons they had against the supernatural, and put it into a shotgun shell capable of spraying the pieces of salt wide enough and hard enough to cause significant damage to the fuglies – that was a freaking stroke of genius.

Sam pulled himself back to the present when he heard Dean slam the trunk of the Impala. He jogged back the dozen yards and snatched Jess's backpack up off the ground. They had taken the clothes she'd brought and put them into plastic bags in the trunk so that they could use the trail appropriate backpack instead of the duffel bags to cart around what they needed. In the bottom of the backpack were some silver knives, ammo, a couple handguns, and on top of that, a couple sweaters and water bottles for camouflage. A quick call to Jay that morning while Jess was in the shower yielded that Jay had an actual hiking pack from his days of backpacking around Australia, and the bag was big enough to stash the hastily packed sawed-offs and a few more weapons. Dean stealthily held a Glock out to him and he tucked it into the back of his jeans before settling his t-shirt around it to hide it and swung Jess's pack up onto his shoulders.

"I'll be right back." Jess called as she headed towards the public washrooms on the edge of the parking lot.

Both brothers turned towards Jay and Dean asked, "If I give you a gun, can you use it?"

"I've never fired a gun in my life, Buddy," Jay said with wide eyes and his hand up as if to ward off a gun Dean was about to hurl at him.

"Okay, so firearms are out. Here." Dean reached into the hiking pack and pulled out a six inch folding silver knife. "Keep that in your pocket, but at least you'll have it if you need it. If anything does jump out at us, grab Jess and get behind us."

"Got it."

Sam gave him a grim nod and said, "Thanks for doing this for us Jay. I don't think Mel would have left that message if it wasn't something important."

"That demon asshole is gonna pay for doing this to us. For making Mel kill herself just to get away." Jay's hands clenched into fists and he held them shaking at his sides.

Dean tossed his leather jacket into the trunk and slammed the lid. "We'll get the bastard. Don't you worry. He's not gonna get away with this – I guarantee it." Dean hefted up the heavy trail pack and slung it on his back. Sam actually laughed at his brother.

"You look like an idiot with that yuppie bag on."

"Hey!" Dean and Jay shot simultaneously.

"That bag has seen more of the world than you ever have, Bud." Jay scowled.

"And what are you talking about, _Yuppie_? I make even this shit look good." Dean re-adjusted a strap and adopted a fake macho stance to compensate for the geekiness of the hiking pack he was wearing. Dean could fool a lot of people, but his brother wasn't one of them and the cockiness wasn't kidding him into believing that Dean wasn't grateful no one he knew would see him in the pack.

"Whatever Ranger Dan," he muttered, standing up straighter as he saw Jess come out of the washrooms and head towards them.

Jay led them over to the community board where a map of the trails was posted. "This is the trail we want to use," he pointed to a dotted yellow line on the board. "It's not one of the more popular trails because it comes up on the falls from a higher elevation and is quite a bit more rough than the main trail. It's pretty much the die-hards that use it cuz it's a longer, harder hike. Teddy had told us that that meant it was worth the work as the view from this part of the cliff was incredible."

"Who's Teddy?" Jess asked innocently.

"My father."

Jess sensed the underlying emotion in his voice as she took a half-step back and softly said, "Oh. Sorry."

"S'alright." Jay pointed to the map again. "So we take this trail, and the spot we're looking for is about here." He tapped his finger on the board. "Afterwards, we can just continue coming along the trail until we hit the switchback that will take us back to the main trails at the falls and take those ones back – making it a full circuit instead of just doubling back on the same trail we came up on." Sam had to hand it to Jay, he was playing his role perfectly and Jess didn't suspect anything was amiss.

"Got it," Dean nodded, taking a final look at the map and memorizing the lines on it. John had made a point with them to always memorize topo maps and Dean was frowning at the closely packed lines. The trail would be a steep one.

"Hey look," Jess said happily from the other side of the community board. She came around waving a paper pamphlet. "These brochures have the trail maps on them."

"Awesome. Sammy, grab another will you? Just in case this one gets wet or lost or something." Dean said, the '_or something_' hanging in the air like a bad smell that no one but the two of them noticed.

"Let's head out," Jay started off for the far side of the parking lot and lesser used trail. "It will take a few hours to get up there, and we'll want to be back before dark."

Jay was up ahead walking with Dean, while he and Jess were bringing up the rear a half dozen yards behind. The trail was a rougher one than you'd expect, although, he had seen the higher part of this particular trail before and knew what they were in for. The trail narrowed out in a lot of places so that they had to travel single file for long stretches at a time. It didn't escape him that when this happened, Dean took point and he automatically took the rear – Jay and Jess safely sandwiched in the middle. Or as safe as they could be with demons hunting them.

After an hour of hiking, they paused for few minutes for a break. The steepness of the trail was going to be murder on his calves but he'd take the pain without a grumble if they sent the demon back to hell where he belonged. He handed out a water bottle to Jess, careful to keep the sweater over the weapons so that she wouldn't see them. They were wrapped up in a couple t-shirts so that they wouldn't clink together and draw the blonde's attention. He saw Dean and Jay drinking from their bottles too. Dean had a fine sheen of sweat on his brow and he drew his forearm across it. The rest of them had lightweight clothing, this being a warm October in California, but Dean was in jeans and his boots and a heavy t-shirt; he'd already stripped off his outer shirt and stuffed it into the pack. And if his legs were sore while wearing sneakers, he didn't want to think about how much pain Dean would be in later wearing freaking biker boots.

They got going again, Jay pointing out things and acting like a damn tour guide. The trail widened out a bit and Jess fell back to walk with him, slipping her hand in his and smiling up at him.

"This is nice, Baby." She leaned in and bumped her shoulder into his arm. "It's really nice to be out here with you and your brother. Jay's sweet too to bring us up here."

"Jess," he paused, "what did Dean tell you about Jay?"

"He said that you knew him when you were younger. Dean said that Jay used to have a baseball autographed by… I don't remember – someone important. But he wants to buy it off him, which is why he came out here. But he said that Jay was more your friend than his, and that's why he wanted you to come out here with him. He misses you, I think."

"Oh. Well…" he stammered at the earnest look on her face.

"Ahh… earlier… about Jay's dad…?" she trailed off and looked up at him.

"Oh that. It's okay Jess. He just found out recently that this guy who he thought was just a friend of his mom's was actually his father."

"That's not good news?" she asked, recalling the tone of Jay's voice back at the community board.

"Well, the guy died several years ago, and Jay only just found out about him is all."

"The poor guy. So what were you two talking about while Dean was busy making a fool of himself out on the dance floor?" She giggled a bit and the sound of it brought a smile to his face.

"Well, he was a bit surprised to see me, let me tell you. But we just caught up a bit. Turns out he did a couple years of backpacking around Australia."

"Wow, that sounds awesome." She bit her lower lip and said, "Maybe you and I can take a trip like that someday."

He squeezed her hand and leaned over and planted a kiss to the top of her head. "I'd like that. If I get that scholarship for law school, why don't we start planning it?"

"You mean it?" she squealed excitedly, her eyes glowing.

"Yeah. It would be awesome."

"We'll have to schedule it for the summer when I won't be teaching. It will be winter there, but who the hell cares – it's Australia."

"You make it sound like I've got that scholarship all wrapped up," he kidded her.

"Come on Baby. You've got that thing in the bag. They'd be stupid not to take you. You had a freaking one-seventy for heaven's sakes."

"Well, we'll find out in a few days. The results of the second test should be here any day now." A little worry crept through him. He thought he'd done well on it but doubt came calling later. He had to do better this time than when he'd been drugged out of his mind. Not that his first score had been bad – it was freaking amazing – but he hadn't felt as if he'd earned it. This new mark would be his and he was worried because so much was riding on it. Pride not the least of it.

"You'll get it Sam. I know you will."

Her confidence in him never failed to amaze him. He'd have to be sure to never let her down again. Although, first they had to take care of this demon. School and Australia would have to wait until it was safe. He had a sudden flashback of the image he'd had of giving Jess that diamond ring he saw a few weeks ago. The image had been of the two of them on the pier in Palo Alto, but maybe the back drop could be the Great Barrier Reef, or the Sydney Opera House. Possibilities and day dreams took over and he stumbled on a protruding root in the path.

_How the hell did Mel ever walk up this long-ass trail in those silly sandals?_ He asked himself. And then the thoughts of Mel took over and he had to school his face to not give away his thoughts as Jess was still talking happily of a trip to the other side of the world.

They took a water break every hour. After three hours of hiking, they took a short break to eat sandwiches they bought from a deli before they left Sonora. It was after five-thirty. He was tired and sweaty and he was glad that Dean was carrying the heavier bag because the thin straps of Jess's backpack were cutting into his shoulders.

"We're not far now." Jay said after swallowing a bite of the turkey sandwich he was holding. "Probably another half-hour or so."

It turned out to be twenty minutes. He knew it was coming when they came to a short, steep, rocky part that he recognized from the dream walk with Melissa. He tried to push away the similarities of helping Mel up that section, and helping Jess get up the short rock scramble. Jess was more than able to make it herself, but she was getting tired and he could see it on her face.

There were dark clouds rolling in when they came to a spot where he could see through the forest canopy. He hoped that a storm wasn't blowing in, or that they would make it down from the falls before it hit. They were planning on doing the summoning ritual that night after they got back to Sonora. They would wait until Jess was asleep, they'd salt the doors, and then they would sneak out to an abandoned barn that Jay told them about that was on the outskirts of town. They would paint a Key of Solomon somewhere where it could be hidden, on the floor covered with hay, or on the ceiling boards if they were able. Then they'd summon that monster to them, lure him into the trap and give him a one way ticket home. Adios asshole. There were a lot of dangers, but there weren't a lot of alternatives either.

"Hey! It's here." Jay called as he stepped off the trail.

The rest of them joined him on the ledge and it was the same place he's seen in his dream. A ball of emotion jammed itself in his throat and he had to swallow thickly to get air into his lungs.

"Wow, what a beautiful view. Whoa! That's a long drop!" Jess exclaimed from her vantage point on the ledge.

"Fuck! Be careful will ya?" Dean cursed and gripped her elbow. Jess was too close to the edge for his comfort and he was glad when Dean led her away to look at the not so distant falls from a different spot.

The falls were beautiful. At a thousand feet high in total, the cascading falls had drops of about three hundred feet each. At each drop, the cliffs came out and sprayed the water in a million directions so that a fog cloud could be seen on most days at the bottom of the falls. There was a foot bridge over the falls on the lowest drop that they would be taking on the hike back to the car. In the wet season, the water flow from the falls covered the bridge and made it impassable. But it had been a dry summer, and the fall hadn't been too wet either, so the bridge would be safe. It was all a charade for Jessica's sake. He and Dean would be quite happy to just leave after they found the rock Mel left her final message on, but then Jess would wonder why they took all the trouble to hike up here and not see the freaking falls.

Sam scanned the ground looking at the many flat rocks that might be the one Mel wrote on. Dean caught his eye and told Jess, "Hey, come over here. I want to get a shot of you with the falls in the background." He pulled his cell from his pocket and flipped it open, positioning Jess so that her back was to him and Jay and they were a safe dozen yards away. While she was distracted, both men dropped to their knees and started quietly flipping over rocks, looking for one with writing on it.

"Hold on, I want one with both of us in it," Dean said hastily, wrapping an arm around Jess's shoulders and holding the phone out in front of them.

Sam faked tying his shoe when Jess glanced over at him. "Don't you want one of Sam too?"

"What, and ruin the shot? I don't need his ugly face giving me nightmares."

Sam glanced over and caught Jay casting a furtive glance at the dark clouds forming.

_Fuck that's moving in fast_.

Dean turned her away again and he went back to searching the stones. He was praying that the rain hadn't washed the message away when he flipped over a pancake sized stone and saw thin, spidery, white letters scratched onto the rock.

"I found it," he breathed, looking at the words and his heart nearly stopping as he read it.

"What's it say?" Jay whispered, sliding over towards him and shooting a quick glance at Jess who still had her back turned. Dean had caught his eye, and tried to get Jess to pose for a few more pictures.

Sam looked at the stone and felt his vision go hazy.

_There are more of us_, it read.

Fuck.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 21

October 27, 2005

_Sam looked at the stone and felt his vision go hazy._

_There are more of us, it read._

_Fuck._

* * *

Jay's face went white and he was pretty sure that his wasn't much better.

"There are more of us? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Jay breathed.

"How many of us are out there?" he whispered himself.

"This is not good, Buddy. Not good at all." Jay cast a scared look over the ledge towards the falls and his eyes went even rounder. "We better get going, that storm looks like it's coming in fast."

Sam turned to face the ledge and felt his own eyes widen. Where twenty minutes ago there had been dark clouds blowing in, there were now pitch-black clouds roiling in from over the mountains. They were moving fast, and there was the distinct feeling of ozone in the air. They were in for a massive electrical storm and they were a long way from the safety of the car.

"Dean, Jess, we should get going," he called out, gesturing to the heavy storm clouds.

"Geez," Jess muttered as she came up beside him as he stood. He'd already flipped the stone back over. "Those clouds are coming in fast aren't they? They didn't say anything about a storm on the weather forecast."

"Yeah, we need to get back to the car. Jay, what's the fastest way back to the parking lot?"

"If we keep going up the trail we were on, eventually we'll come to a switchback that will take us to the main trail. The main one will be easier going and faster because it's not so narrow and overgrown. That would be our best bet. Hopefully we can get down the switchback before the weather hits."

"Well let's get going then." Dean grunted as he hefted the hiking pack back onto his shoulders. "I definitely don't want to be under the trees when the lighting starts."

"Sorry Jess, looks like we won't be getting up close and personal with the waterfall," he told her as he swung her pack onto his back, wincing slightly when he heard a faint metallic clink from within.

"Don't worry about it, Baby. That looks like one hell of a storm headed our way." She shuddered and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze.

"It'll be fine – I promise."

He spoke the words, but he didn't believe them. Those clouds were like nothing he'd ever seen before. They were so dark they were nearly purple, and they were writhing as if they were alive and in tremendous pain. Just then, he saw a chain of purple and green lightning snake through the cloud mass, lighting it up from within.

"Come on guys, we gotta get back." He let Dean take the front of the line, and he took up the back, noticing Dean's squared shoulders and the way he was looking left and right. So he wasn't just being paranoid. Dean felt something too. Something wasn't right.

Once they were back from the ledge and making their way through the trees, the light dimmed considerably. It was almost as if it were an instant twilight – where it was dark, but it wasn't, and the shadows moved if your eyes strayed. It was fucking creepy as hell and the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

There was a scraping of gravel behind them and they all whirled around at the sound. There was a man standing on the path that had been empty a moment ago.

"Where you going kids?" The stranger smiled and Sam felt his heart freeze in his chest. He pushed Jess behind him and swallowed hard. "Daddy's home."

There was a glint of gold in the man's eyes as he smiled at them. He was dark haired, looked as if he hadn't shaved in a couple days, and he was smiling at them as if they were happy meals and he was starving. A good looking man, he was perfectly rumpled in the pale slacks and grey suit jacket he was wearing. A man of money and means, it was apparent he was used to getting his own way with or without the demon riding him. The guy gave a short chuckle that sent rivers of panic down his spine and Sam pulled the Glock from the back of his jeans and leveled it on the stranger's chest. Jess screamed as she saw the weapon in his hand, and then Dean was beside him with a shotgun in each hand. Jess screamed again.

The demon gave Dean a brief once-over, gave another soft chuckle that made Dean grit his teeth, then the demon turned back to face him, dismissing Dean's presence completely.

"Shut her up will you?" the demon asked him, not hiding his enjoyment. Jay grabbed Jess and pulled her back more, using both Winchesters as a wall between the blonde and the grinning demon.

"Sam! What's going on?" she cried, struggling against Jay's hold on her.

"Yeah Sammy, tell her what's going on," the demon smirked. "Jay, nice to see you too," he nodded at the surfer.

Dean sneered at the monster and cocked one shotgun single handed by holding the slide and giving the gun a sharp snap. "Stay back Jessica." Dean demanded, speaking sharply and cutting off her protest mid-squeak.

"Come on boys!" the demon cajoled. "You know those weapons won't kill me."

Dean fired off a round of rock salt right at the demon's chest. Sam could just make out Dean saying, "No, but it will fuckin' hurt though," over Jessica's renewed screaming.

The demon clutched at his chest. He turned a steely gaze on Dean, his eyes flashed a dangerous gold, and he cast a hand out at Dean and he went sailing into a tree trunk. Jess screamed again, and Jay dropped his hold on her to pick up the shotgun Dean had dropped when he went flying. Dean was a fighter to the core though. He'd kept a grip on the second shot gun and struggled to get up, using the shotgun as a crutch to lever himself back to a standing position.

"Put the gun down Jay," the demon said softly. "You don't want to hurt yourself."

"You sonofabitch!" Jay cursed. "You're the reason Melissa's dead!" he spat.

"Hey, I didn't push her over the edge. She did that on her own. It's not my fault she was a digging little bitch. Besides, what do you care about her?"

"She was my sister!"

"You found out yesterday that she was your sister, and now you're all family vengeance?" The demon actually laughed at him, and it made Sam's skin crawl.

"You bastard," Sam hissed, "You killed our mother you sonofabitch, didn't you!"

"Wrong place, wrong time. It was nothing personal, but she did interrupt me."

Dean and Jay both shot a round of rock-salt at him, and he doubled over slightly before casting hands out at the both of them, flinging them several yard to roll to a stop in the dirt.

"Jess! Stay back!" he growled at her when she went to run to Dean and Jay.

"Sam! What going on?" she cried.

"Aren't you gonna tell her Sammy?" the demon mocked him, turning an interested gaze on Jessica. "Aren't you gonna tell her all about what's going on here?"

"You sonofabitch! Don't you fucking talk to her!"

"You don't give me orders, Kid." He shot a hand at Jess and she gripped her throat, gasping and choking.

"Leave her alone!" he and Jay shouted together. He fired off a useless round at the demon while Jay scrambled to his feet and cast a hand towards the demon.

The demon turned his head slowly towards the scared surfer. His eyes turned completely yellow and he dropped his hand. Jess fell to her knees, gulping down huge mouthfuls of air.

"Jess!" He dropped down beside her, gripping her tight.

"Sam," she choked, clinging to him. "What's going on? What _is_ this guy?"

But whatever hurried conversation they could have had was cut off as the demon took a determined and menacing step towards Jay. "You'd try to use the gifts I gave you against me, Boy?" It came out as a malevolent whisper, and Sam shot back to his feet and leveled the Glock on the demon.

"Stay where you are!" he bellowed, looking down the length of the barrel for all the help the iron round would do him.

Yellow Eyes flicked a hand at him and Sam went hurtling through the air, crashing into a boulder on the side of the trail. The air in his lungs rushed out of him, and he had no breath to scream with as the demon shot a hand towards Jay, who was standing on the darkened pathway, arm outstretched before him. The demon gave a tiny flick of his wrist, and Jay's head snapped to the side. The crack of the vertebrae shattering was heard over the rising wind, and Sam's 'NO!' could not get past his vocal chords as there was no air inside him to make any sounds at all.

It was just like his dream. He'd thought it had happened at night because of the darkness, but it was the storm clouds the demon rode in on that made it appear so. Everything happened in slow motion. He saw the look of surprise and fear in Jay's eyes as his head was snapped to the side. He saw the instant that his life ended as the light in his eyes went out. He saw Jay's knees buckle and his body sink to the ground, looking like a marionette with strings cut cruelly out from above him. He saw him crumple and fold in on himself. And he heard Jess and Dean scream, 'NO!' as Jay's face met the dirt of the trail, and his eyes drifted mostly shut, with only a thin sliver of brown showing.

And all he could do was reach a hand out to him from his own spot on the ground, no breath to yell to the guy who he had led to his death by asking him to come up here in the first place.

Dean was back on his feet and charging at the demon, and Yellow Eyes batted him away easily.

Dean tumbled end over end and rolled into a group of ferns before he came to a stop. Getting on all fours and shaking his head, "You sonofabitch!" he snarled from his place on the ground. "I'll fucking kill you!"

The demon actually laughed at that statement. He held a hand over his lean stomach and laughed the laughter that had haunted Sam's nightmares for months. "You think I've never heard those words before, Kid?" He strode over the few feet and gripped Dean by the front of his shirt and punched him in the mouth as hard as he could. The heavy sound of flesh hitting flesh reverberated through his skull as he watched the blood spurt from Dean's mouth. "And I'm still here!" the demon shouted, slugging Dean in the face again.

"Let him go," Sam wheezed, pulling air into his lungs like burning liquid fire that ate the thin lining of the organs. Jess, frozen from fear, came to his side and dropped next to him, trying to help him to his feet.

"Make me," the demon threw another punch at Dean's head.

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," _he chanted. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. They were supposed to lure him into a Key of Solomon, strip him of his powers, and then send the bastard back to hell where he belongs. Exorcising a demon out in the open was insanity.

"You'd try to exorcise me?" Fist cocked mid-air, Yellow Eyes quirked an eyebrow and he couldn't tell whether the demon was pissed or amused.

"_Omnis satanica potestas,_"

"Ungrateful little bastard aren't you?" He dropped the front of Dean's shirt and took a few casual steps towards him. His brother slumped, spitting a wad of blood to the ground before shakily finding his feet.

"_Omnis incursio,_" He continued, his back burning from when he'd slammed into the boulder. He didn't look at Jessica from her perch under his arm, holding him up. He didn't need to look at her to know the expression of horror on her face as he chanted in Latin at a man who could withstand bullets and throw and kill people with a thought.

"_Infernalis adversarii,_" he could make out Dean coming up to stand beside him, shotgun pointed at the demon. Dean stooped next to Jay and picked up the second shotgun, handing it to him as he continued the exorcism.

"_Omnis legio,_" He leveled the shotgun on the demon.

Yellow Eyes started laughing again. "You seriously think I'm gonna stand here and let you send me back to Hell?" With a twist of the wrist, an unseen hand was around his throat and he was clawing at his neck in a vain attempt at drawing breath.

"Sam!" Dean bellowed, firing another round of rock-salt at the demon. It was enough for the spell to break and he gulped down air like a man dying of thirst gulps down water.

"I'm getting tired of all this," Yellow Eyes muttered, snapping his fingers and instantly there was the sound of scuffling dirt, vicious snarling, and the feeling of pure evil pacing irritably next to the demon.

Jessica let out an ear piercing scream, hands to her mouth and staring at the spot where deep furrows in the dirt were being scraped up by invisible claws.

"Sam, what is that?" she screamed.

The bottom to his stomach dropped out and he fought not to be sick. "Do you see it?" he asked, praying the word was 'no' and she was just reacting to the bad vibes around them.

"Oh, she sees it alright," the demon smirked.

"You sonofabitch! You put a hit out on her!" he snarled.

"What are we dealing with Sammy?" Dean shouted, the shotgun roving from the demon to the empty, growling air next to him. Yellow Eyes put a hand out like he was petting the animal's head. And Sam knew what he should have known all along. The beast from the alleyway dreams, the monster he fought in Dreamland, the creature that killed Wilson…

"Hellhound," he whispered, "It's a fucking Hellhound."

"Oh fuck," Dean blanched, tightening his grip on the shotgun.

"Sam…" Jess's voice quavered in fear and he pushed her behind him.

"Let them go," he tried to reason with the demon.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?__ Reasoning with a demon?_

"It's me you want… Let them go."

"Oh, it's definitely you that I want Kid. You're my favorite." Yellow Eyes smiled benevolently at him. "But I hold all the cards. You want off this mountain, it will cost you."

"What do you want?" Dean demanded.

"No one was speaking to you, Sparky. You have no value to me." The demon narrowed his eyes at Dean, dismissing him yet again.

"What do you want?" Jess whispered shakily, still eyeing the dirt next to the stranger, and the large footprints forming in the dirt.

Yellow Eyes gave her a good once-over. Sam's skin crawled as the demon gazed at her and stroked his stubbled chin. "Come here Jessica," he beckoned with a crooked finger.

He held his free arm out, keeping her behind him and keeping the shotgun leveled on the demon's chest with the other. "Leave her out of this. It's between you and me!"

"You think so do you, Kid?" There was a crushing vice around his head and he fell to his knees, gripping the sides of his skull as white-hot pain engulfed him.

"SAM!" Jess and Dean both screamed. Dean went to shoot the demon again but Yellow Eyes grabbed the gun with unseen hands and tossed it into the ferns lining the path.

"SAM!" Jess screamed again, dropping next to him and trying to pull his hands away from his ears as everything went white.

The pain lessened for a moment so that he could hear what the demon had to say.

"This is between whoever I want to make it between, and the sooner you learn that, the better. You don't make demands of me you little shit – you make deals. Jessica, come **here!**"

Unabashed fear filled her eyes as she scrambled to her feet to do what the demon asked of her. He reached for his girlfriend to stop her, but the pain was so bad he could hardly move. Dean managed to get a grip on her wrist and tried to pull her back, but she yanked herself free and made her way to the demon, giving a wide berth to the snarling space next to him.

"Jess, no…" he grunted around the feeling of a hot iron poker thrust through his ears.

"That's better," Yellow Eyes cooed, extending a hand to her and drawing her close. "See how easy this is when you play along?" The demon raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"Stop hurting him," she begged him, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Done. Give a little, get a little. That's how it works in my world." The demon gave her a charming smile and the blinding pain in his head receded to a dull ache. He slumped slightly from relief before staggering to his feet with the help of Dean and the remaining shotgun he'd dropped by his knees.

"What do you want?" he gasped, leaning heavily on Dean as he fought to regain his equilibrium.

The demon gave Jess a lewd glance. "Currently?" he chuckled.

Jess shuddered and Dean shouted, "Leave her alone you sick bastard!" The empty air next to the demon and Jess vibrated with malice and Jessica cringed.

"Jessica Moore, I'll make you a deal." Yellow Eyes ran a finger down the line of her jaw and Jess closed her eyes, another tear leaking down her cheek. "I don't normally degrade myself with bedding humans – but for you – I might make an exception."

"Jess! No!"

Yellow Eyes ignored him as he put a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. "One night with me, and you all go free. You won't get another offer other than a guaranteed and painful death."

"Jess…" he croaked, "Don't do it! He's lying!"

"I make a deal, I have to stick to it. Those are the rules you know." He pulled Jessica to him, wrapping arms around her, her back pressed into his chest as he held her almost tenderly. The demon shot him a wicked glace over Jessica's shaking shoulders. "I almost made the same deal to your mother once you know. You Winchesters certainly like your women beautiful." The demon ran the tip of his nose over the soft curve of Jessica's ear, making her shudder again. "I see something of Mary in you my dear," he whispered lovingly to her. "She was an exceptional woman – strong and fierce."

"You don't talk about our mother you bastard!" Dean hissed.

The demon gave Dean another amused look. "You know Dean… I almost hope you live long enough to figure everything out."

"I'm gonna kill you for doing this to our family," Dean whispered with deadly promise.

"This isn't our first conversation Kid, and this isn't the first time you've threatened to kill me. The only reason you're alive is because I haven't killed you yet. Think on that."

Dean's face scrunched up in thought, trying to figure out the demon's words.

_They've met before? A hunt they'd been on maybe?_

"What's he talking about Dean?"

"I've got no fucking idea. Demons lie to mess with you."

"I've got no reason to lie," Yellow Eyes murmured, gliding deft fingers down the length of Jessica's arm. She was hugging herself, and the demon's hand ended up circled around her waist, holding her firmly against him. "Everything I want is in my grasp."

"_Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica,_" he hissed.

"One more word, Sam, and I'll snap her neck just to hear the crack," Yellow Eyes threatened, pressing a kiss to Jessica's throat and eliciting a sobbing gasp from the blonde. The invisible mass next to them gave a sharp snarl and Jess cowered at the sound, the tears flowing freely and he was powerless to help her.

"Jess…"

_I did this to her…_

"So how about it Jessica?" the demon purred, nuzzling her neck. "One night and you all walk away. People have sold more to me than that and gotten less out of the bargain. Or is your virtue worth more than your life and theirs?" he mocked her.

"Don't do it Jessica," Dean pleaded when all that Sam was capable of was opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. He was trying to convey his thoughts with his eyes, because the giant lump of emotion lodged in his throat wouldn't permit him to speak.

He shook his head dumbly, _Don't do it Jess. Don't do it._

Her head dipped forward, the tangled curls obscuring her face. Her shoulders were shaking, and he could see the tears as they fell and splashed onto the dirt trail by her feet.

"We all go free?" Her voice shook and his heart broke.

"Jessica, don't…" he choked out.

"Safe and sound," Yellow Eyes promised, eyes glinting gold before turning back to the meat puppet's dark eyes. He was back to running the tip of his nose along the shell of her ear, one arm still firm around her and holding her fast to him.

"No…" Dean whispered.

"Deals are sealed with a kiss, Sweetheart," the demon smirked, nipping almost playfully at her earlobe and she shuddered again.

Jess lifted her head and gave them both a forlorn look. "I'm sorry, Sam," she mouthed to him before her head dropped again.

The demon beamed a grin of triumph at him, a look that made his stomach churn and his broken heart shatter even more. The demon placed his hands gently on her shoulders to turn her towards him to seal the deal, when Jess suddenly snapped her head back and smashed the back of her head into the demon's borrowed nose.

"Bitch!" he shouted, but Jess had already whirled around and gripped him by the shoulders, ramming her knee into his groin with every ounce of force her five-foot-eleven frame had.

There was a horrific snarl from the Hellhound at his master's anger, and Dean, more on the ball than he was at the moment, snatched the shotgun out of his hands and started firing rounds at the beast they could only see from the rising dust on the trail.

Jess was still driving her knee into the demon's groin over and over, keeping him unable to fling her with his mojo because of the pain she was inflicting on him. Guess that was a sensitive spot for demons too.

"SAM!" Dean bellowed, "Finish the exorcism!"

"_In nomine et virtute,_" he shouted, diving for the ferns for the second shotgun_. How many rounds were left in each? Eight rounds a gun… how many were already fired off…?_

"_Domini Nostri Jesu Christi,_" he rolled up onto one knee and fired a round of salt at the Hellhound when Dean's chamber clicked on empty. It gave Dean a moment for his fast fingers to slam more cartridges he'd had in his pocket, into the chamber.

"_Eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia,_" he shouted. Between the two of them they were managing to keep the Hellhound back from Jess and the demon. Yellow Eyes made a grab at her, but she managed to dance back, and the demon lost his balance and fell to one knee. Jess lashed out with a foot square to the demon's face, snapping his head back and making the Hellhound wail for the master it couldn't get to. Jess was screaming wildly as she kicked at the demon again and again, aiming for any vulnerable spot she could land a blow on. Every ounce of fear and rage that had built up in her in the past ten minutes was gushing forth, and his gentle and sweet girlfriend was fighting like a woman possessed.

"_Ab animabus ad imaginem._" Dean was reloaded and continued firing at the Hellhound while he refilled his own weapon. Beastie was getting pissed.

"_Dei conditis._" Yellow Eyes started convulsing on the ground, his body writhing from the pain of the ritual ripping him from the guy he was wearing, and still Jess kicked him over and over. Rage and fear fueled her, and she was crying as she was screaming, aiming blows at the demons face, stomach and groin. He wondered if there was anyone nearby that would hear all the gun fire and come to investigate, although the sight of the storm clouds overhead likely had everyone scrambling to get back to the safety of their vehicles.

His shotgun loaded, "_Ac pretioso divini._" Yellow Eyes' body started jerking to and fro like a fish on a giant hook and Jess jumped back.

"This isn't over!" the demon bellowed, dark smoke starting to erupt from his mouth.

"_Agni sanguine redemptis!_" he shouted over the roar of the demon and the howl of the Hellhound as its master was ejected from the stolen body and shot into the sky, devoured by the purple clouds. A flash of purple and green lightning lit up the cloud and he only had a millisecond of relief that the demon was gone, only to have it dashed as the Hellhound leapt at Dean in its anger. The Hellhound hadn't been around for the first part of the ritual, and it was still fucking here. There was no one to control the beast, and there was no way they could say the exorcism again to send the beast back to hell. There weren't many salt-rounds left, and there wasn't anything else they had that would have any effect.

They were fucked.

"Dean!" he shouted as his brother was knocked off his feet, shotgun still in one hand by some miracle. The growling and snarling reached a fever pitch as Dean struggled with a creature he couldn't see. His arms were holding the shotgun above him as he lay on his back, using the weapon as a brace as if the gun was lodged under the beast's throat and keeping the deadly jaws back from his face. He couldn't even fire his own shotgun at the creature, because the spray might hit Dean. The salt wouldn't kill his brother, but it would hurt him bad enough to prevent him from fighting as well.

So he ran up, swinging the end of the shotgun like a club at a spot just above where Dean's braced hands were. He felt the impact vibrate up his arms, and the invisible mass howled. There was a smashing blow that landed in the middle of his chest, and he soared backwards, landing heavily on his hip. There was a bellow of pain from Dean and he saw a bright red gash open up on his brother's shoulder, the t-shirt he was wearing torn to strips.

He started to scramble to his feet when he saw her coming. Jessica, wielding a four foot long piece of deadfall, ran for Dean, screaming a battle-cry a thousand years out of place. She swung the club just above Dean's face, grunting when it hit home and the Hellhound howled his rage. Jess used the momentum to swing again, and Dean brought the shotgun up and fired into space, another howl filling the air. At that close of a range, there would be no scatter-field.

Jess screamed again, leaping into the air and bringing the branch down in an overhand arc, pointy end down. There was an ear-drum shattering howl of pain, and the point of the deadfall was lodged into the soft loam at the edge of the path. The branch quivered and shook, and there were more howls from the beast, and a thick dark substance started leaking out onto the dirt.

Jess backed up, wide-eyed and shaking as she looked at the quivering staff. There was a deep pool of the dark substance welling up around the branch a foot in the air, and then it started to run over the body of the Hellhound to show a bloody outline of the beast's belly. Deep furrows were being ripped up where paws would be, and the beast was struggling against the pole that had pinioned it to the ground.

"We gotta go," he whispered, stunned beyond belief that Jessica – his Angel – had just speared a fucking Hellhound to the ground. He grabbed her elbow, pulling on her as she stood transfixed. "Jess, now!"

He managed to turn her away from the welling blood, remembering that she could see the damn thing where he couldn't. He gripped Dean's wrist and yanked him to his feet and he stumbled a step before regaining his balance. They snatched up the packs and shotguns, slinging them over their shoulders and watching the dirt fly from around the tree bole wedged in the dirt. Dean wrapped a hand around Jess's elbow, pulling her away from the sight she couldn't turn away from on her own.

She turned her wide, blue, fear filled eyes to him, searching his face for God knows what. "We've gotta run," she whispered, still stealing glances at the quivering spear and the writhing animal spitted on it.

"Dean," he said as calmly as he could. "Run."

* * *

A/N: I found the exorcism I used on Wikipedia. They had several and most of them were really long. But Witness!Meg said that fifty words of Latin sooner and she'd still be alive, and this one was forty-seven, so there you go. Hope you enjoyed ;D


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 22

October 27, 2005

_(- - Starseed, by Our Lady Peace - -)_

"Run." His own calmness broke something in him, and he shouted, "RUN!"

He reached out and caught Jessica's arm, pulling her with him as they raced up the trail, Dean hot on their heels as he tried to shove what was left of the salt-rounds into the shotgun while he ran.

The backpack on his shoulders bounced and jostled, not having been properly strapped down and it was interfering with his stride. No time for that now though, the howls of fury from the Hellhound were getting louder as its prey ran off into the trees.

Branches and ferns whipped past in a constant blur. He had let go of Jessica's arm and she was running full tilt just behind him. The going wasn't easy. The trail had been difficult enough when they'd been hiking on it. Now they were running for their lives because although the Hellhound was pinned, it wasn't dead. He didn't know of a way to kill a Hellhound, and with it topside, it wouldn't stop until it caught them.

His heart was hammering in his chest, and his breath was coming with more difficultly as they pushed on and on. If he didn't want his lungs to explode and his legs to give out, they'd have to stop running soon. He noticed that his hands were starting to shake – never a good thing. He could hear the growing struggle with Jessica's breathing behind him and he knew they had to stop running and think of a plan.

"Sam?" Jessica panted, "Sam, stop – its Dean."

He whirled in place to see his brother lagging behind them, stubbornly still moving despite the ashen color of his face and the blood running down his arm and chest. Dean seemed to sink a bit once the forward momentum was gone, and he gratefully stopped his labored attempt to keep up.

"Jesus, Dean," he cursed, stopping next to his brother and pulling back the shredded portion of his t-shirt. His shoulder was a mess. Deep gouges ran ten inches over his shoulder and down the top part of his arm, thick red blood seeping up and saturating the material of the shirt.

"I'm okay," he groused, clearly not but batting his brother's hands away regardless.

"No, you're not," he insisted, rummaging in Jessica's pack for the t-shirts he'd wrapped the weapons in. Silver knives and iron rounds would hurt the beast, but it wouldn't stop it. He used the silver knife to cut a few strips from the clean t-shirt and wrapped it around Dean's wound. Tying it tight, it was the best he could do for his brother while they were still in the open. "Here, drink this." He gave Dean a water bottle from the pack. "You need to keep your blood pressure up," he mumbled, digging for a granola bar or something to keep his sugar levels up, trying to figure out how much blood Dean lost.

"We gotta move," Dean stated.

"Yeah, but I can't carry you outta here, so you need to keep your blood pressure **up**." Sam reached out and tipped the bottom of the bottle up, forcing Dean to take a few more swallows of fluid.

"Jess, are you hurt?" he asked over his shoulder, finding the granola bar and forcing it on his brother. He was mentally taking inventory of his own injuries – he felt like he'd been hit by a Mac truck, but it was nothing that would kill him. Jess didn't answer and he turned to ask her again, when he saw her hugging herself and shaking.

"Jess…?" he whispered, and Dean shoved on his arm.

"Go to her, Stupid." He growled.

He got to his feet, walking slowly as she was shaking her head at him and tears coursing down her cheeks. "Jess," he said softly, reaching out to draw her against him in a vain attempt to get her to stop trembling from the adrenaline crash.

"Don't!" she hissed as she yanked out of his tentative grip. "Don't you fucking touch me!"

"Jessica…"

"I don't want to hear more of your lies, Sam. I want to know what the hell that thing was! I want to know what the hell can get shot over and over but doesn't die. I want to know why a cloud of black smoke shot out of that guy! Exorcism! Is that what you said?" she narrowed her eyes at Dean, glaring hatefully at both brothers.

"Jess, let me explain." He tried to reach for her again. She was in shock, and of course she was – look what they just escaped from.

"What are you going to explain to me, Sam?" she hissed again. "The guns, the monster only I could see, or the guy throwing people around without touching them?" She blanched and looked at him with fresh horror. "Jay's fucking **dead** back there!"

He closed his eyes and sighed in defeat. "That guy was a demon Jess. I wish I were lying right now but it's the truth."

"Oh Jesus," she paled, bending over at the waist and gasping for breath.

"Jess," he put his hand on her back and she lashed out at him.

"Don't touch me!"

"Will you shut the fuck up?" Dean snarled at her. "You're pissed. Big deal. We got bigger problems, Cupcake, so suck it up for now."

"Don't you talk to me that way you lying snake!" She got into his face and pointed a finger at his nose.

Quick as lightning, Dean snatched her wrist with his good arm and jerked her against him. "Unless you want to lose that finger and everything attached to it, I suggest we keep moving." The danger and menace in his voice didn't escape her and she opened her mouth to let him have it, but got nothing out as Dean cut her off. "Between your bitching and my bleeding, we're gonna lead that fucker right to us."

"It's going to die. It can't come after us," she seethed.

"You only slowed it down, Jess." He stepped forward and put an arm between her and Dean to break them apart. "You can't kill a Hellhound, and we didn't kill that demon. All we can do is try to trap the Hellhound and send it back to hell before it catches up to us and rips us apart."

Blue eyes wide, "But…"

"It will rip itself free, sooner rather than later, and it will hunt us down. We need to keep moving."

"How did that branch slow it down anyway?" Dean asked, wincing as he tried to put the pack on his shoulders.

He rolled his eyes at his brother's stubbornness and went behind him to take out the heavier objects in the pack and put them in his own. "It was an evergreen branch," he offered, transferring a box of iron rounds to his pack. "Evergreen has many properties that are detrimental to the supernatural… maybe that's why it hurt it. You can kill a Demi-god with an evergreen stake to the heart. That's probably where the whole vampire-stake-through-the-heart myth started." He found a few stray rounds of rock-salt and slid them into the chamber of his shotgun.

_Bonus_.

"Come on Sammy," Dean tried to joke, "Vampires aren't real."

"No, but lots of other things out there will kill you for your blood." He reached up and closed the flap on the top of Dean's pack, now much lighter and easier for him to carry in his current state seeing as how he was insisting on carrying it in the first place.

_Stubborn jackass._

"Listen to you two," Jess looked at them horrified. "You speak like you know what you're talking about."

"That's cuz we do, Princess." Dean grimaced as the lightened pack settled on his shoulders. "It's kind of our job."

"Monsters are your job?" she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at them.

"It's the family business." Dean clapped him on the shoulder and started walking. "Every time you try to get out, they just suck you back in, eh Sammy?"

"Let's go," he said, ignoring Dean's jackass smirk and absently reaching for Jessica's arm. She snatched it out of his grasp, gave him a look so dirty his heart clenched, and she stomped off along the trail, refusing to look at him.

* * *

A short time later, they came on a small feeder stream and decided to follow it instead of the path. The going would be slow, and the risk of falling and hurting themselves was great, but the running water would wash away their scent. Hellhounds hunt by scent, and combine their scent with the blood trail Dean was leaving, and the thing could just follow their path like the fucking yellow lines on the highway.

He tried to tie another strip of cloth to Dean's shoulder as he'd already soaked through the last one, but Dean shoved him off.

"It won't make much difference right now, Sammy."

"We're gonna have to find somewhere to hide for the night," he said softly so that Jessica wouldn't hear. "It's really getting dark, we won't be able to see at all soon, and that thing could just come right up behind us. And you look like you won't make it much farther either."

"I'm fine!" he hissed with annoyance.

"You're bleeding out you jerk."

"This?" he looked at the wrapped shoulder. "This is nothing."

"Dean, you are the last person to have any say as to the state of your health."

"Look, when we find a place to hole up, you can stitch me up if it will make you feel better. For now, how about we concentrate on not falling and snapping an ankle or something. 'Kay?"

"Jess?" he called, earning a scowl and he died a little more inside. "We're going to follow the stream for awhile to mask our scent. Be careful not to hurt yourself."

The going was tough. The stream was about ten feet wide, and only a few inches deep in most places, but there were spots where it would suddenly drop and they would find themselves up to their knees in the running water. The water-rounded river stones were slick with algae and wet leaves and the water was freezing, making his feet and ankles numb.

_At least if I break my ankle, it's already numb_, he thought to himself, watching Jess carefully navigate herself down the streambed.

Dean was having a tough go of it. Having to have your arms shoot out constantly to keep your balance was one thing, but when your shoulder looked like a Freddy Krueger poster, it was downright torture. It was a testament to Dean's perseverance that he kept going.

The stream came to a spot where it dropped down an eight foot rock wall. It wasn't the first one they'd come to since they'd taken to the water, but this one was steeper than the others, and Dean honestly didn't look like he could handle it right now. He could only imagine how much the guy's arm was killing him and he tried to recall if Hellhounds had any sort of poison in their claws to add to their arsenal.

He scrambled down the adjoining rock face, picking out a path that the others could follow, not sure if he was grateful to have his feet out of the cold water or not. Jess came down next while Dean stood at the top with the shotgun held loosely across his chest. Once Jess joined him at the bottom, careful not to come into the slightest contact with him, then Dean let the pack drop where his brother caught it and let it rest on the edge of the streambed. The shotgun slung across his shoulders with the rarely used strap, Dean made his laborious way down the rock face, wincing and grimacing with pain as his shoulder pulled and stretched during the short climb. He wobbled a little when he reached the bottom, but shrugged off the attentions of his brother, stoically shouldering the pack again and stepping into the stream and continuing on.

They were in a bit of a gully now. The rock faces lining the stream rising up a dozen feet and getting steeper as they followed the stream down.

His shoulders were raw from the pack, his hip was on fire from where he'd landed on it, his feet were numb and his sneakers wouldn't dry out until Christmas or so, but they were alive. Jess wouldn't so much as look at him, but she was alive. Dean's shoulder was a mess, but he was alive. And Jay was dead and it was all his fault for asking the guy to show him where the ledge was. And the growing ball of guilt roiling in his gut waved hello and made his vision blur from un-shedable tears for a moment.

_We need to find a place for the night_.

It didn't take long after that last drop for Dean to point out a fissure in the rock wall just ahead of them. Handing him a small pen-light, they investigated the crack in the rock face. The crevice was about two feet wide at the face, and after a couple feet of cramped, hyperventilating inducing panic, it widened out to an open roofed hollow in the gully. The rock walls, nearly twenty feet high, soared dark and craggy above them, blotting out the meager light from the night sky. There wasn't much sky to see anyway as the purple storm clouds were still loitering above, and every so often during their escape, the winds would pick up and refresh the smell of impending storm.

Long and narrow, the fissure was the best thing they would likely come across that resembled shelter. At least it was too narrow an entrance for the Hellhound. He had felt the size of the thing when it hit him, and he could recall perfectly the blood running down the beast's belly after Jessica skewered it. They had to remove the packs and squeeze in to gain entrance – the Hellhound would be too big.

That didn't stop Dean from handing him a can of salt from a pack pocket and sending him out to the rock face to pour a line across the entrance.

When he came back a minute later, Dean was sitting on a small boulder and leaning wearily against the crevice wall, and he could only just make out Jessica farther back in the gloom – and that was only because he could faintly see her light t-shirt glowing in the blackness.

"Did you bring a first aid kit?" he asked his brother, rummaging in the many pockets of the trail pack.

"Of course I did." The trace of annoyance was good. It meant he was still conscious enough to be a smart ass.

"The suture kit in there too?"

"Since when do I leave home without the suture kit, huh? I keep that right next to my lock pick set and my extra Trojans."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

He held the small pen-light in his teeth as he rummaged around the pack. The small amount of light was like a beacon compared to the surrounding darkness, and he kept glancing warily at Jessica, who had found her own boulder to sit on at the far end of the fissure. She was resting the back of her head against the wall, rolling it back and forth on her neck and he could only imagine in his mind the far away and miserable look in her blue eyes. The ball of guilt gave him a hearty kick in the guts and he closed his eyes in resignation.

_I did this to her_.

Dean caught the direction of his gaze and whispered, "I can wait, if you wanna go talk to her."

"No." He said firmly, clamping his teeth down on the barrel of the light and pulling the white med box out of the pack. "No, she doesn't want to talk to me yet. I'll give her some time to get her bearings on all this."

"So you're pissed and miserable and you're gonna come at me with a needle? Great."

Dean rolled his eyes and started to carefully strip off the tattered remains of his bloody shirt. He helped his brother ease the material over his head and down the injured arm. It always amazed him how much adrenaline will do to keep you alive and moving, and then the crash it leaves you with when it's all burnt from your system. Dean balled up the bloody shirt and tossed it to the ground, leaning his bare back against the cold rock wall, he took the pen-light from him and held it over his shoulder so that both his hands would be free.

He took out the t-shirt he'd torn the strips from earlier and tore some more to clean the wounds. The bleeding had stopped, and the thick, congealed blood was all over his brother's arm making it a gory mess. Pouring water from the bottles over the arm so that pink water splashed at their feet, he cleaned the gashes as best as he could. Trying to be as gentle as possible, he still earned a litany of curses and grunts from Dean.

The blood now gone, he still had to disinfect the wounds before he could stitch the tears back together.

"Peroxide?" he raised a questioning eyebrow at his brother.

"Whiskey – even better." Dean pointed at a side pocket and he found the metal flask along with a bag of M&M's.

He poured a healthy dose of the amber liquid over the gashes and Dean hissed in pain. "Waste of good whiskey," he grunted through clenched teeth.

"Well gangrene would be a waste of a good arm. Take your pick."

"Can I have a shot of the whiskey?" Dean looked hopeful, and the liquor certainly wouldn't be good for him considering the blood loss, but it was the closest thing they had to a pain reliever on hand.

"Drink the rest of that bottle of water, and I'll let you have a slug."

"Again with the water?" To anyone who didn't know better, it would sound like Dean was whining. But he knew his brother wasn't the whining type. At least not normally. He must be hurting bad.

"You have to keep your blood pressure up, Jackass." He held out the bottle of water, holding the whiskey flask out of reach.

"Fine." Dean took the bottle and drained it, exchanging the empty plastic bottle with the familiar metal flask. Taking a long pull off the flask, Dean settled back against the crevice wall and held the pen-light aloft. "Get it over with."

He picked up the sterilized needle and thread and got to work.

* * *

Two hours later and he was standing up and arching his back to work the kinks out of it. Four gashes, ten inches long each, equaled too many stitches to add up right now.

"Fine job there Sammy. You really earned your boy scout badge on that one." Dean took a hit from the flask and handed it to him for a drink of his own. The whiskey burned down his throat and made a warm puddle for the ball of guilt to swim in.

Dean lightly bounced the back of his head off the rock wall a couple times before saying, "Can I just say how awesome you did up there tonight?" He was speaking to Jess at the far end of the fissure, only visible by her pale t-shirt.

"Don't talk to me," she said flatly.

"Alright, fine. Trust me Sweetheart, I have no desire to get on the bad side of a chick that just black-balled a demon and skewered a Hellhound like it was a damn rotisserie chicken."

"Leave her alone, Dean," he said softly as he put away the first aid kit and handed the flask back to his brother.

"Do me a favor, Sam. When we make it outta here…marry that girl." Dean took another long pull from the flask and closed his eyes in bliss. The blood loss and whiskey consumption was having an affect on his normally un-affectable brother.

He did his best to ignore the comment, as it sent shards of ice into his heart at the loss of the daydreams he and Jess had shared earlier. "Here, put this on." He tossed his brother's button-down at him and took the flask away. The button down was still clean, having been discarded and put in the pack at the start of the long hike when Dean was sweating bullets. "It's getting cold."

"It was already cold," Dean muttered, carefully threading his injured arm into the sleeve. Well, he wasn't lying. His feet were numb, his sneakers squished when he walked and his jeans were soaked from the knees down, but all that was eclipsed at the prospect of what he had to do next.

Dean caught his forlorn glance to the back of the fissure, and said, "I'm not gonna keel over, Sammy. Go talk to her."

And he guessed that there wasn't any use to putting it off anymore.

Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat, and shining the pen-light along the floor of the crevice, he picked his way carefully along the rocky surface, mindful of the bumpy rock walls that jutted out and tried to hit him in the head. Jess wouldn't look at him as he sat on a small rock by her knees, so he turned off the pen light and reached out to take her hands in the darkness. They were frigid so he rubbed them between his big hands to warm them.

"Guess I have some explaining to do, huh?"

"That's the understatement of the year." Her voice was so flat and broken, his heart clenched and shuddered inside his chest.

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't Sam. I can't believe anything you say anyway. It was a lie. All of it." She sounded as dead inside as he felt, and the ball of guilt gripped his heart and yanked on it, trying to pull it free of the cage it was dying in.

"I love you, Jess. That was never a lie. It's the god's honest truth."

"How can you hide something like this from someone you love?" The anger crept into her voice a little.

_Not so dead inside after all_.

"Would you have believed me if I told you? Would you have believed me if I told you our father trained us to fight the supernatural?"

"No," she snorted. "Even after what I just saw, I still don't believe it. You know… I thought your dad was a Hitman or a mobster or something? I actually thought you were in witness protection or something like that because of that gunshot wound to your leg. It's why I never probed for anything."

"Hhmph. And that's better than the truth?"

"Kind of. At least that's real. I sincerely doubt any mobster would try to kill me and then eat me."

"I don't know… some people can be really fucked up."

She gave a small grunt of laughter and then she sniffed back a tear. "So who are you, Sam? Budding trial lawyer? Monster slayer? Field medic? NRA member? Linguist?"

"All of the above?" He tried to be light, but it hung heavy in the darkness. Call him a coward, but he was kind of glad that it was too dark to see her face clearly – because he could hear the tears building in her voice and his broken heart shattered even more.

"You know, it's really hard on you when you learn that the only thing you know about the guy you're sharing your life with is his name. It _**is**_ Sam Winchester, right?"

"Yeah, the name's right. Jess…" he paused, not sure how to say what he needed to say. How do you put into words that you're sorry that you ruined someone's life? "…I never wanted any of this to happen. I tried so hard to get out, to leave it all behind me and start over. I-I… I didn't know I wanted the things I wanted until I met you. I've never lied to you about the way I love you. More than anything." And his voice was hitching and he fought to swallow down the emotion eating at his throat. If Jess wasn't breaking down, he owed it to her to keep it together too.

"We can't ever go back to the way things were, Sam. Not after this." He felt his soul die. Right. There.

"I know," he whispered, knowing that those words were coming. "Can I just tell you that you were really amazing up there? How did you do it? How did you fight like that? And the Hellhound…" He heard her sharp intake of breath and he cut off his words mid-sentence.

"I don't know how I did it. I saw you and Dean standing there with your guns and Jay dead on the ground, and you begging me not to go off with the guy… I got angry, and it was like I wasn't really in control of my body anymore and I just snapped."

He had heard of women doing extraordinary things when under extreme conditions. He remembered when he was a teen and his dad had a newspaper article open about a woman the next State over, lifting a car off a child with her bare hands. He asked him if they were going to go and investigate it, and John had told him no, that the woman just had a brush with '_Mama Bear Syndrome_' and it wasn't a case for them. Told him that women were capable of incredible things when they were backed into a corner and to never underestimate them. _'The sweetest, kindest soccer mom will slice you to ribbons, given the chance, if she thinks you're a threat to her kids.'_ He'd seen similar cases since – women that fought off attackers and wild animals to save their children, or feats of strength beyond the capacities of a normal person. Although none of those cases involved a woman protecting her douchebag, lying-freak of a boyfriend by spearing a demonic creature.

"Can I ask you something?" she whispered in the blackness. "Why could I see the monster and you couldn't?"

_Oh… This is gonna be hard to explain to her…_

"It's a Hellhound," he started, "And you can only see it when it's got a contract out on you. It wasn't after me and Dean. It would have killed us if it could, but we weren't its targets." He left out the part about being dragged off to hell.

"So I'm on a monster's hit-list. Awesome."

"I'm going to make you safe Jess. I promise you that." He leaned in close to her and squeezed her still frozen hands. "Just let me get you down off this mountain and make you safe. If..." _fuck this was hard_ "…If you never want to see me again… I'll understand." The ball of guilt successfully ripped his heart free from the connecting veins and arteries, and his heart joined his dead soul as he sensed her nodding in the darkness. "If hating me makes this easier on you… I understand."

"I don't hate you, Sam." Her voice hitched and she sniffed back a tear. Taking a hand out of his, he could see the ghostly outlines of the back of the pale hand wiping at her face. "And nothing will make this easier," she breathed shakily.

And there was nothing more to say after that. They were over.

He stood slowly from the rock he was sitting on, ghosting his hands along her arms until he reached her shoulders. Tentatively reaching out and brushing the tangled blonde curls from her forehead, he planted a kiss there. Tears burning his eyes, he drifted his hands down the sides of her face and traced the lines of her jaw until he tipped her face up to meet his. He kissed her at the corner of the lips he loved so much, tasting the salt from her own tears as he felt one of his own land on her cheek.

_This is the last time I'll be able to touch her like this_, he thought, a stab of pain shooting through him as the loss became real. He gently brushed his thumb over her lips, memorizing the shape and softness of them so he could remember them in the lonely years ahead of him.

_He. Was. Poison. _

Jess didn't flinch away from his touch, but she didn't lean into it either. She was trembling again, and as much as he wanted to hold her, he knew he couldn't. He could never hold his angel again.

Giving her face a final, gentle brush, he turned and made his way through the blackness to the front of the fissure. He couldn't make out Dean's outline until he was practically on top of the guy. He was propped up against the wall, and nearly invisible with his dark clothing, but his shotgun was leaning against the wall next to him, ready for action if the need arose.

"How you feeling?" His voice sounded hollow in his own ears. Must be because he didn't have a soul anymore.

"Like I went a few rounds with Battlecat and lost," Dean grunted.

"Yeah, that thing definitely wasn't Cringer."

"Think that makes me He-Man? She-Ra was hot." Dean was listing to the side slightly, clearly under the combined effects of the whiskey and blood loss.

"She-Ra was his sister, Dude."

"What? Are you kidding me? She was his sister?"

"Sorry to burst your bubble," he said sullenly. There was no way that Dean didn't hear every word he and Jess said to each other, but he was trying to keep him talking when he really should be sleeping, so he tried to be happy for the small miracle of Dean's delusional mumbling keeping him from falling apart right there.

_God, he'd lost Jess_.

"I'm sorry, Sammy… about her."

"Dean – can we not…?" he trailed off, not wanting to have this conversation with his brother. He would much rather fester in his misery alone, the way they were intended to. Misery didn't love company, it was just that sometimes, misery was stuck in a cave with company and there was no other way around it.

"Hmmph," Dean grunted. Calling out softly to Jessica, "You know… I wanted to hate you. I lost my brother to you and I wanted to hate you for it because he chose you over his family. But now… Now that I've seen the kind of woman you are… I see what he sees in you. Everything he did, he did to protect you. Don't be so quick to throw it all away."

There was absolute silence from the back of the fissure. Looked like Jess was more successful in having her misery all to herself back there than he was up here.

_Please God, just let me get her safely down this mountain. Let me make her safe_.

He had an image of the Hellhound coming after them as they made their way down come daybreak. In his mind he could see dirt flying up from under invisible claws as the beast raced for them. He could see Jessica screaming, he could see Dean ripped open, and he could see this own blood giving everything a bloody hue in the vision. It wasn't a real vision. Firstly he wasn't asleep right now. But it was real in his mind and the terror of it made him open his mouth and ask the impossible from his brother.

"Dean, can I ask you a favor?"

"What, Sam?"

"Promise me she makes it off this mountain. Even if it means leaving me behind." He could see it in his head. He would feed himself right into the mouth of that monster if it meant giving Dean and Jess an extra moment to escape.

"Sam!"

"I mean it Dean. You get her down, you take her to Bobby's or where ever you have to, to make her safe."

_I have nothing to live for now anyway, my angel flew away._

"Sammy, you can't ask me something like that," Dean breathed, the shock of the request clearly reverberating through his mind.

"I'm not asking, Dean. I'm begging."

"Sammy, no."

"Please Dean. I got her into this mess, and I need to know she'll make it out. Promise me."

"We're all getting off this fucking mountain, Sam," Dean growled, the finality of it shutting him up. But he knew, if it came down to it, Dean would make sure that Jess was safe. Because Dean had never denied him anything he'd ever asked for – including to go away and never speak to him again.

* * *

They left the crevice at dawn, just as soon as there was enough light to see the way. The purple clouds were gone, but thick grey ones covered the sky, threatening the rain that never fell last night. They stuck to the streambed for another torturous mile before joining in on the last part of the switchback trail where it met up with the main trail. Soaked, cold and hungry, they started towards the wide open main trail and the seven easy miles back to the Impala. It was too early for other hikers, and for that he was glad. He didn't want to come up on someone unawares with a sawed-off held across his chest, dirty and injured like they were. Not that there was much chance of them not hearing someone approach. Every nerve and sense they had was on red alert and they twitched with every noise.

The switchback ended near the path that led to the bridge over the last drop of the falls. The path led up and away towards the thunderous roar of the waterfalls, while the groomed main trail sloped gently down towards the head of the valley. They were roughly a hundred feet above the reservoir below, the water swift and dark where the falls met the man-flooded valley. The smell of the minerals in the water was overshadowed by the thick smell of decaying vegetation all around them from the moisture in the air.

The entire descent had been devoid of conversation – only the sound of light footfalls on the dirt and the creaking of the pack harnesses. Jessica's face was stained and her eyes were red but the set of her mouth was nothing but grim determination. Dean, stoic as always, shouldered the pack and brought up the rear and didn't utter a word the entire time. Even his brother couldn't break through the wall of silence that enveloped him and Jessica, and Dean wisely didn't try.

When they rejoined the main trail, they stopped for a moment to allow Dean to catch his breath. Stubborn and hard-headed as he was, he wasn't Superman, and his injured shoulder was clearly hurting him. Jess wandered away a few feet and turned to watch the falls and all their stunning beauty. Dean nudged him in the arm and nodded towards her, mouthing '_go talk to her_'.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" she asked softly when he stood next to her to admire the falls. They were the first words she'd said to him since she told him that nothing would make their splitting up any easier.

"Yeah, they are," he replied, watching the roaring water crash to the reservoir below and the mist-fog that hung in the air all around the base. They stood in silence a moment when he felt Jess brush his hand with hers. The instinct to reach out and hold her hand took him before he could hold himself back. He was ready for her to pull out of his grip and give him one of the dirty scowls she had been giving him during their escape last night, but it never came. Instead, she squeezed his hand gently and kept holding it.

"Jess, I…"

"Just shut up, Sam." Her voice was oddly wispy, but authoritative. "I'm not saying that I'm not royally pissed at you, and I'm definitely not saying that you don't owe me a massive explanation once we get out of here, but I've been thinking about what Dean said, and he's right."

He turned to her in shock. "Jess, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I don't want to just throw us away. I think that when we're safe, I want you to come clean to me about everything. There is absolutely no way that you and I are going to work if you continue lying about everything to me." She turned and looked him in the eye and he felt his soul come back to life and his dead heart start beating again. "Can you do that, Sam? Can you promise me that everything is going to be put out on the table, or are your secrets more important to you than me?"

"Nothing is more important than you, Jessica," he breathed, touching her face and leaning his forehead against hers. The ball of emotion in his throat throbbed and ebbed in time with his newly re-animated heart, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. The idea of being able to tell her everything was a lifting experience and he felt overjoyed at the thought of not having to hide who he was from her anymore. He swiped at a tear that formed in the corner of his eye.

She smiled at him, and his world began anew in the blue depths when they suddenly turned to a space over his shoulder and they went wide with fright.

"SAM! MOVE!" She yanked on his arm, and he spun in place to see a blood covered hole on a rocky crag moving towards them and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight as a howl filled the air, drowning out the sounds of the falls.

"DEAN!" he shouted, bringing up the shotgun and firing at the fast moving hole. "RUN!"

He grabbed Jessica's arm, pulling her as they ran and he turned to fire off another round at the beast charging after them. They were screwed and he knew it. They'd never be able to outrun it out here in the open, not tired and wounded like they were. But adrenaline saved their asses once already and it wasn't done with them yet. Dean fired off a round and broke into a sprint next to him, both brothers running just behind Jessica and firing at the creature that was closing the gap fast.

They ran full tilt down the main trail, and he glanced over the edge of the drop at the water a hundred feet down, rapidly calculating the chances of missing the large boulders just under the surface. They didn't have a lot of options here. They only had a few rounds left and miles to go before they reached the Impala, and that would be no safe haven either.

"We have to jump!" he shouted, thinking that the water would slow the beast down as he didn't think Hellhounds could cross deep water.

"The fall could kill us!" Jess screamed.

"He definitely will!" he yelled, reaching to grab her elbow, taking a sharp left and they leapt.

He felt his heart and stomach lurch up into his throat and it seemed to take forever to fall, the water only seeming to drift up towards them instead of the racing plummet it actually was. He let go of Jessica's arm so that he wouldn't land on her and braced himself for the impact with the solid mass of water.

The initial impact was one of shock as the angry, cold water swallowed him up and forced him down. The current was strong here, and the undertow from the falls was sucking him under. He tried to kick up, but his sneakers and pants were weighing him down, and the pack full of weapons was going to drown him faster than the water trying to enter his lungs. His lungs were burning as he struggled with the straps of the pack, while vainly trying to locate Jess and Dean in the frothy mess of water.

The current kept pulling him along, and the pack was dragging him deeper and deeper as his frozen fingers fumbled with the chest strap.

He saw a limb pass by several feet to his right, recognizing Jessica's pants and he saw her struggling for the surface and losing. They were both going to drown and the demon would win. Anger and panic and gut-wrenching fear clawed at him when he saw Jess sink deeper in the water, one arm reaching for the surface as she kicked furiously, unable to escape the undertow.

NO! his mind shouted, and he stretched an arm out towards her and felt white-hot fire engulf his mind and his skull seemed to split open as his veins burst into flame. The shock of the pain made him cry out but still he reached for her, even though water was filling his lungs as he screamed for her and every cell of his body howled, "UP!"

His back slammed into a submerged boulder, breaking his concentration and pushing the water and air out of his lungs in a painful explosion. The empty lungs tried to fill back up, but only sucked in more mineral filled water and he sank more now that the buoy of air inside him was gone.

Everything seemed to slow down. He thought he saw Jess break the surface, but wasn't sure as his vision started to turn black at the edges. He felt heavy and floaty all at the same time. He gave up trying to free himself from the heavy pack as his fingers weren't working anyway and he wished he could know if Dean made the jump or not but he couldn't see anything at all now as the black crept in from the edges and blocked all the watery light from above.

_So this is drowning_, he thought, as he seemed to drift slowly down, pulled along by the current and the undertow and unable to do anything about it. _It sure takes a long time_.

The water's hungry hands pulled on his legs, taking him deeper and deeper.

_God, keep them safe_, he prayed.

He slammed into another boulder, cracking his head against the rock and everything went dark.

_(- - Sound of Silence, by Simon and Garfunkel - -)_

* * *

A/N: You guys are awesome – you know that right?


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 23

October 28, 2005

_(- - Sound of Silence, by Simon and Garfunkel - -)_

_As far as death goes, this ain't so bad_, he thought as he drifted in the darkness. _No pearly gates, no heavenly choir or multitude of saints_. _Just darkness and silence_.

But at least he was warm on his soft cushion of ever-after. His limbs felt heavy and sluggish, and he wondered if his limbs were real or if they were just figments of his imagination. He felt as if he was drifting in some thick and viscous liquid, and he stretched out his conscience to feel the breadth of his little piece of never-more. He felt his ghost fingers brush something warm and the electric shock of that shot up his non-existent arm and into his imagined heart. He knew the feel of that softness. He knew it intimately. He'd known the feel and taste of every inch of that soft and glorious skin.

_Jessica… _

He reached for her again, feeling the solidness of her body next to his and his heart broke that she was dead with him – that he hadn't saved her after all.

_At least we're together…_

A light snapped on, and he was in his bed back in his apartment. He looked wildly around, ready to fight and to protect. He didn't know from what, but he'd stand between her and whatever just turned on that damned light. He reached out to shake her into consciousness, if that were even possible if she was dead, but… he was dead too, and he was alert, and… Fuck this was hurting his head.

"Jess, wake up."

"She will not wake. Not until I'm finished talking to you," came a deep and gravelly voice from the corner. A shape shimmered into existence with a flutter of the curtains and a ruffle of _**something**_, and a man stood before him that was not there a second ago. He was a tall man, bald and black skinned, wearing a dark suit, and with an air of complete and immense disdain aimed at him.

"Who are you?" he demanded, ready to throw back the blankets and dive for the baseball bat stashed under the bed.

"I am Uriel." The stranger spoke slowly, and with contempt dripping from his deep voice.

"Okay, Uriel, **what** are you?"

_I am gonna mess you up you demon fuck,_ he thought, planning on saying the exorcism as fast as humanly possible.

"I am an angel of the Lord."

_Whoa, __**so**__ not expecting that one. Angel? Really?_

"I don't believe you."

There was a flicker of the bedside lamp and the stranger stood even straighter, a shadow of unfurling black wings burned their way across the white wall behind him and he shrank back a bit.

_O. Kay._

"Huh, so I did die." He looked at Jessica lying next to him, cuz for a second there, he thought they might have lived through it all by some miracle. "So I didn't save her after all." His failure tugged at his heart – the world lost a brilliant star and it was all his fault. "At least we're in Heaven together," he whispered, brushing his fingers lightly over her exposed arm, trying to reconcile himself with the loss.

"You are not dead and this is not Heaven. This is your home Sam Winchester," the angel growled.

"But I don't understand. How did we get here?" _We were drowning in a fucking river…_

"I brought you here," the dark man said, clearly thinking him a moron for not figuring it out on his own.

"And Dean?" _Tell me my brother lived – tell me the Hellhound didn't catch him._

"Safe. He's outside New Orleans. He was working there when you called him and I just put him back. The hound is vanquished as well."

_He's a goddamn mind-reader…_ and he winced at the poor wording of his thoughts as the angel's scowl got even darker.

"Not that I'm complaining… but why would an angel of the Lord come to my rescue?" He swung his legs around and planted his feet on the floor. Definitely his apartment – he recognized the gouge in the wood floor by his feet.

"Because you have an important role to play in the days to come."

_I have a __**what**__!_

"Me? What's so important about me?" He had made the mistake of standing, and now felt his knees soften, and he wondered if it would be a show of weakness or tribute to fall to his knees in front of an angel of the Lord – even one that was acting pretty douchie.

"That is information that you aren't allowed to have yet." The angel drew himself up to his full height – he was not a sleight figure.

"I don't understand. What am I supposed to do? How will I know what's expected of me?" This was all too much right now. A minute ago he was drowning! And now he was alive and in his apartment on the other side of the freaking State, talking to an _**Angel of the Lord,**_ and dude was telling him he had a mission? _What. The. Fuck_.

"It will all become clear when the time is right. There is a purpose for everything, and your purpose is great." It would have been a pretty speech if the angel wasn't glaring at him so hatefully.

"But…"

"Enough!" he thundered. The walls seemed to waver from the anger emanating from the presence in the room. "Who do you think you are to question the words of an angel! I could lay waste and ruin to this entire city if I chose, and you pester me with stupid questions? You have a task that is important to my superiors – that is it."

He wondered how Jess could still sleep through that outburst, until he remembered that the angel said she wouldn't wake until he was done with him.

"I'm sorry. It's just that I don't understand."

_Come on, Dude, give me a break._

"Of course you don't understand. You are human and incapable of understanding the scope of Heaven's plans." The angel sneered at him, and he distinctly felt an electric charge in the air as the angel's scorn reached an even higher level. And he got pissed too, because, weren't angels supposed act better than this?

"There's no need to act like such a jerk," he shot at the stranger. "I thought angels were supposed to be righteous and kind – that's what the bible made them out to be."

"That is your bible's versions of angels. Winged protectors at the beck and call of the humans? Hardly," the angel hissed derisively. "Your bible has been corrupted by the men who have copied, translated, and altered it to suit their needs. The bible you speak of now is not the same as the one dictated to the Prophets two millennia ago by my brothers."

_Didn't need the history lesson_.

"Look, I'm sorry I'm confused. The last thing I remember is drowning and watching _her_ drown, and the next moment I'm freaking home and a pissed off angel in a bad suit is yelling at me. I mean, _anyone_ should be able to figure out what the hell is going on, right?"

_Stop being a smart-ass Sam_. That voice in his head was his dad's, and he hadn't heard anything like _that_ in awhile.

"Your lack of respect for my kind is the reason I don't like interfering with yours," Uriel spat.

"Then why did you?" he shot back, not heeding John's advice. Never did before, so why now, right?

"Because I had orders. You cannot be allowed to die – you are necessary. Do not think it was for any other reason than that. I'm tempted to smite you where you stand for your insolence alone."

"Bet you'd get into trouble for that though, wouldn't you?"

_Shut. Up. Sam_.

"Do not tempt me, Winchester," the deep voice threatened. "I will suffer the consequences gladly if it means an end to your sniveling existence."

"Then do I go to Heaven after you smite me and lodge a formal complaint?"

_Just shut up you idiot – what is wrong with you?_ And he couldn't figure that one out for the life of him. This guy could wipe him out with a fucking eye twitch, and he was being a smart-ass?

"You'd never remember anyway," the angel smirked, and the look sent a shiver of fear down his spine.

"What do you mean, I won't remember? How many times do you think an angel waltzed into my bedroom after saving me from a Hellhound, only to start acting like a douche?"

"Who knows?" the angel shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. "We don't allow humans to remember us if we reveal ourselves to them. You are not going to be any different."

"How can you make me forget something like that?"

"I am an angel, I will just wipe your memory." The smug grin on the jerk made his blood run cold.

"You can't do that! They're **my** memories!" he shouted.

"Remember when you were twelve, and you and your brother stole your father's car and took it for a joyride in that farmer's field?" Uriel asked silkily.

He remembered. It was the first time he'd driven the Impala for fun. Dean had been coaching him from the passenger side and he cut the wheel, spinning through the muck and kicking up runnels of long grass and mud behind them to Dean's cheering. Then they spent an hour washing her to hide the evidence from John.

The angel raised a hand and snapped his fingers, "And now it's gone – like it never happened."

He felt his face go slack, as one second the memory was crisp and clear, and the next…

"You sonofabitch," he breathed, trying to hold onto the memory, but it was running through his fingers like fine beach sand until it was no more. "You sonofa**bitch**!"

The angel grinned at him again, "What other memories do you want to lose for your insolence, young Winchester?"

"What do you want?" he growled, feeling angry – violated even.

"I just wanted to meet the one on whose shoulders so much rests. I have to say that I'm… underwhelmed."

"Sorry to be such a disappointment."

"That comes with being human. You can't strive for much when you're not given much to work with."

"You're a real dick, you know that, Uriel?"

The angel laughed, low and throaty, as if he'd just said something he found clever. "You're opinion of me matters as much as a tick's opinion of a dog's ass, Sam Winchester."

Sam could only glare at the angel.

_This is what people prayed to? What a rip-off._

"You will remember nothing of tonight," the angel intoned. "You will remember nothing of the demon, or what you learned the last several months. Your knowledge is dangerous and it cannot be trusted with you yet."

"What about Jessica?" he whispered, truly scared now. She had found out what he was and accepted him for it. They were going to start a new life together without the lies getting in the way.

"She will remember nothing but the happy memories I'll give you both," the self-satisfied smile on Uriel's face made his eyes burn.

"Please don't do that," he begged, tears threatening to run down his cheeks. "Please."

Uriel snapped his fingers and was gone with a rustle of feathered wings and a warm breeze across his cheek.

He blinked, standing in the middle of his dimly lit bedroom, wondering what made him get out of bed. There was nothing amiss, and he didn't hear anything from the rest of the apartment.

_Why am I out of bed? What's wrong with me?_ He swiped a hand over his cheeks, realizing he was crying and not having a clue as to why.

He glanced around the room, looking at the bed and Jessica's still form under the blankets. He walked to the bed like a zombie, feeling empty of something he couldn't put his finger on. He slid between the blankets, wrapping an arm around Jess and holding her tight. She mumbled contentedly in her sleep and he pressed his chest against her back, letting the warmth of her body fill him up as he buried his face in her sweet smelling hair and cried for no reason.

That night, he dreamt of her burning on the ceiling…

* * *

_Somewhere on the coast of Fiji…_

"Is it taken care of?" he asked the ruffle of feathers that sounded to his left.

"The boy is safe, and his memories altered. He will remember nothing of the last several months other than what I left behind for him. I planted the same false memories into the girl's mind as well."

"Thank you Uriel. That is most efficient of you." That was high praise coming from someone like him.

"There is one thing, Zachariah… The girl. She disturbs me. She should not have been able to cause the damage to the Hellhound as she did."

"Humans can be surprising sometimes, Brother. Surely you've noticed that over the millennia?"

_And here comes something about mud-monkeys…_ he thought idly.

"The mud monkeys are a stain on our father's greatest creation. They talk of Eden and don't even realize that they are ruining "Eden" as they speak. The greatest gift our father could ever give them, and they violate her to the edge of destruction." Uriel's voice dripped with scorn and it bored him terribly.

_Mud-monkeys. Am I good, or am I good?_

"Those are the means to our end, are they not, Uriel? Is that not why we are striving to release our brother from his prison? To vanquish the human scourge?" He gazed out over the crystal waters. It will be nice to have this place back to himself.

"Yes, Zachariah. It is only that I don't see the reason why the girl was saved too. Why not have let me kill her and be done with her?" he asked angrily, the dark eyes of his vessel narrowing on his dark face.

"Because she and Sam Winchester are a fated pair," he spoke with an air of someone about to lose their patience. "And if there were some way that her death were to be traced back to us… Well I can promise you that it would not be pretty and all our plans would have been for nothing."

"Their child," Uriel hissed, "should it come into existence, could ruin everything we've worked for. You know this."

"Yes, I do." He knew it all too well. Someone higher up had decreed the match and he could do nothing to stop it. He had a feeling he knew who did it – an insurance policy of biblical proportions taken out against him. Well… it was time to cancel that policy, and he knew the way to do it. "And you are right, of course… Release Azazel from the pit and tell him to finish her off. I'm sure he would appreciate the chance to redeem himself for the embarrassment she caused him."

"I do not trust the demon stain." Uriel spoke derisively, in case his disgust for the demon wasn't already evident.

"Nor do I, but he is a dog on a leash, and if he wants his master freed from his prison, he'll do what he's told like a good pup."

_Or face annihilation at my hands._ The thought of one day destroying Azazel was something that served to cheer him up.

"And if the girl escapes again? What then?" He could almost hear the bloodlust in his subordinate's voice. He wanted the privilege of killing the girl and was almost rooting for the demon's failure for the chance to do so.

"Hmmm. We can't allow that to happen again." _I can't allow __**you**__ to kill her_. "We need her vulnerable…" he mused, forming a plan to get the Winchester's out of the way. "Plant the idea in the brother's head that he needs to start looking for his father, and that he wants his brother with him."

_That damned free-will God gave the cretins could ruin everything_.

They couldn't _force_ the humans to do anything. Sure they could hurt them, coerce them, or dangle something in front of them like bait on a hook, but the final word would always be that of free-will.

"Tell Azazel to catch her unawares and tell him not to play with his food this time. A second failure will not pass by un-rebuked." He cracked his fingers for emphasis. Uriel would gladly pass on the message.

"I do not like working alongside a demon. It galls me to stoop to such levels," the specialist spat.

_Oooh, such pride, Uriel. What do they say about pride? It goeth before a fall?_

"Now, Uriel," he cajoled. "What do you think will happen to the demons once Lucifer is free? He'll destroy them all, along with the human filth." He clapped Uriel on the back in a friendly manner. The schmooziness he'd picked up from the humans was a fast learned gift. "Sometimes to plant a garden, you have to get down in the dirt before it can grow." But he was growing tired of the playacting. He wanted this done with and the sooner the better. "Now go quickly. There is much to be done and the timing is critical."

Uriel took a deep breath of resignation. "Yes, Zachariah."

"Oh, and Uriel?" he smiled at his scapegoat. "Make sure that you are not seen. Kill any witnesses that see you with the demon."

"Yes, Zachariah." That earned him an honest smile. Uriel was truly '_The Smiter_.' He had made an art form of it.

Uriel disappeared with a rustle of feathers and he breathed deeply of the ocean scent to calm himself.

_Fool_.

He would have to dispose of Uriel when this was all over. He couldn't be found to have dirty hands if this thing went sideways on him. He didn't get to where he was today by not having contingency plans in place for all outcomes. Uriel, in all his pompous disregard for the humans, accused _them_ of being shortsighted, when he himself was so blinded by his supposed importance that he couldn't see the big picture himself.

He _always_ saw the big picture - that was what led him to his station today. Uriel might think that they were doing this to free Lucifer from his prison and scour the earth of the filth that inhabited it. That was certainly one goal, but not his end game. Lucifer and Michael would fight to the death, and he was betting that neither would survive the battle, that they would kill each other, or at least one would survive with wounds so grievous, that _he_ would be able to finish off the victor and make it look like they both died in the fight at the hands of the other.

With Michael and Lucifer out of the way, that would leave Raphael in charge of Heaven, making himself Second-in-Command. That in itself was a position of untold power, and for a time, it would be sufficient. But when the chance presented itself, he would take out Raphael and then _he_ would be in charge of the host. Gabriel disappeared so long ago that he wasn't worried about him coming back to steal his throne. He would be burned as the deserter he was the second he showed his face. And God? His father left Heaven not long after Gabriel did. Not even a word of goodbye or instruction to the children he left behind. No, when this was over, he would be the ruler of the kingdom of Heaven… and all beneath it

Centuries ago, he had set out carefully, getting a feel for the discontent amongst his brothers, and later, daring to broach Raphael. He had used Uriel to recruit among the ranks, leaving no trail back to him. But Raphael? Uriel did not have the station to approach the archangel, and that dangerous job was left to him. Raphael's abhorrence for humanity was almost as bad as Lucifer's, but he had never crossed the line of waging war on the filth like his brother did. And Raphael was tired of being under Michael's sword. Michael, the leader of the host and the favorite of their father, who strutted around Heaven in all his self-important glory. There were some who were loyally devoted to Michael and the possible return of God, but they were known to him and would be eliminated if they stood in his way.

So it was not hard to sway Raphael onto the path they both now rest their feet. Raphael had told him the way to unlock the cage, and together they came up with the plan of using the demons and humans as pawns. He himself sought Azazel, the second most powerful demon in existence, and recruited him into service. And as the Keeper of Vessels, he had a hand in leading Azazel to Lawrence, Kansas, and Mary and John Winchester.

John Winchester, whose bloodlines were the Keepers of the Brothers, and Mary Campbell, who sprang from a line of warriors – the perfect ingredients to make a Boy King befitting Lucifer and a sword-arm for Michael – and he was the hand behind their fated match. Both vessels would have to be evenly matched if things were to go his way on this. One brother could not be stronger than the other or all would fail and he'd wind up with his head on a block next to Azazel and Uriel. The child destined to be a vessel for Lucifer should by rights be the one to set him free, and the other contaminated children were a blind to throw off any angel digging into the happenings on Earth. Azazel didn't know this. He thought he was growing a crop of potential leaders for his demon army, not helping to create his master's perfect vessel. He favored Sam Winchester as the ultimate winner – it was obvious the boy was above and beyond the other 'Special Kids'. And after witnessing the power the kid was capable of when they were drowning – his un-trained power had catapulted Jessica clear to the surface of the water and free of the undertow – he rubbed his hands eagerly in anticipation. Centuries of careful planning and plotting were about to come to fruition. And the death of Jessica would drive Sam onto the hunt for vengeance, just like it did for John Winchester. He'd planted _that_ little suggestion into old John's head himself.

And after the coming power shift, Raphael would be the natural choice to lead the host, and after his position of Second-in-Command was assured, _then_ he would have his just desserts. The certainty that Raphael was behind mating Sam Winchester with Jessica Moore was obvious on him. Jessica Moore had a rather special branch on her family tree. Five hundred years ago, an angel by the name of Ilithia fell in love with a human. She ripped out her grace and fell to earth to live the rest of her mortal life with an inferior human. She was not the first to do so, nor would she be the last, but Ilithia had been a most fearsome warrior in Michael's army. Several times since Ilithia's disgrace did an offspring of her line show a glimmer of her grace – and Jessica Moore was one of those glimmers. Most angels erased Ilithia from their minds, as her disgrace was abominable – but he was Keeper of the Vessels, and he knew what the girl was. Uriel knew because of his abhorrence for their brethren that elected to turn human. Uriel had hunted Ilithia, and he killed her for her defection, but not before Ilithia succeeded in bearing a human child and hiding her amongst the human population. Uriel sensed that there was something peculiar about the girl, but not the depth of the situation. Again, showcasing his lack of being able to see the big picture. They did however know what the child would be capable of. They'd seen it.

Apparently, Raphael knew who Jessica was too. That is why he sent Sam Winchester on a collision course with the girl, and fated them together. Jessica and Sam's child would have unspeakable powers… And Raphael would use that child against him if he suspected treachery on his part.

But he couldn't be held accountable for an angry and blood thirsty demon. The girl humiliated him – Azazel would not turn the other cheek on that. The demon would destroy her and with that, set everything into motion.

Soon. Everything was falling into place beautifully. The power and the glory of Heaven would be all his, and he could almost taste the victory sweet on his tongue.

_So long as everything goes according to plan_.

* * *

"Sam!" his angel called from the other room. "You coming or what?"

He popped his head out from around the door frame. "Do I have to?" He took in the naughty nurse uniform she was wearing and swallowed hard.

_She wants me to go out with her while she's looking like __**that**_? He would much rather stay home and admire her in that outfit. His eyes trailed down to her feet and the Amber-style borrowed red heels she was wearing with the thigh high nylons.

_Yeah… definitely would prefer to stay home_.

"Yes. It'll be fun. And where is your costume?" She had a mischievous glint in her blue eyes – she'd caught the lustful thoughts on his mind and wielded them like a weapon. She could have her way with him and she knew it, so long as she played her cards right.

"Jess, you know how I feel about Halloween." He'd told her he thought it was a stupid holiday, but she wanted to celebrate his LSAT score. A one-seventy-four – an incredible mark for a first attempt at the test. He could have his pick of law schools and one of his professors arranged for him to have an interview with the Dean of Stanford Law on Monday. Another reason Jess wanted to celebrate – she wanted to tell their friends the good news.

"Come on," she pouted. "It'll be fun."

The End.

* * *

A/N: And it's CANON! Sorta *grins sheepishly*. You guys have been awesome and supportive and I can't thank you enough for following me along on this story. And that slap-myself-in-the-forehead followed by a sharp left turn that I mentioned several chapters ago? Originally, I had planned that Sam never made the call to Dean. He tracked down Jay on his own and went up in the mountains with him. Jay was always going to die up there, and Sam would escape with some divine intervention, only to have his memory wiped. The I'm-so-stupid-for-not-thinking-of-it moment was that if the angels were gonna zap Sammy's memory, why not invite Dean and Jess along and have some fun with it? So long as I was doling out mind bleach, why not have Dean hit on Jess and be the big brother on this crazy mission that Sam needed? Why not have Jess see all the dirty laundry and accept him regardless? I had fun with it, and I hope you guys enjoyed the story too.

Again, thank you all so much from the bottom of my heart. You've made this such a treat for me. I plan on taking a few weeks off to kick-start my next story, and hopefully will start posting again before too long. I don't think I'll make it until Season Six starts up before I'm posting again as I'm pretty addicted to this site (it fuels my obsession and I like it). If you liked what you read, hopefully you'll put me on author-alert, or *gasp* the coveted _Favorite Author_ – and I'll see you again in a few weeks ;D


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